


The Professor

by coy_koi



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Unrelated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cheating, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fingerfucking, Light Angst, Literature, Love Confessions, Making Love, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Professor - Freeform, Public Sex, Romance, Self Confidence Issues, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:45:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 91,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coy_koi/pseuds/coy_koi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oakley and his professor (reader) are surprisingly reunited years after their secret affair, only to reveal how their lives have changed, some for better, some for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue.

"We really shouldn’t, Oakley.."  
  
"Shhh…"  
  
His fingers dive under the side of your panties and starting playing with your  
  
clit. You yelp lightly and chuckle.  
  
"Oh come on… it’s… somebody can see us.. you’re.. I’m your teacher.."  
  
"You know you want to, I can tell.."  
  
He grins at you, and you bite your lower lip, embarrassed you’re soaking wet below the long fingers of your charming student, the one whose mischievous grin and playful eyes which always travelled down your body you tried avoiding at all costs, only to end up here, half drunk, alone with him on this veranda. You have to hand it to yourself, you pulled back every time he leaned towards you, averted your eyes and talked to other students. Although you stayed after every one of them went to sleep. You stayed, sipping your drink, after the last girl rose and walked into the hotel. He just sat there, candle light flickering in his hungry eyes as he fought to contain the eternal smile on that face which looked even younger like that.  
  
And here you are, ten minutes later, breathing heavily as you half-heartedly try to push him off.. not even trying, slowly allowing your brain to wrap around the fact you really wanted this boy, ever since you saw him enter your office for that first private consultation. You smile.  
  
"Mmm… you’re better at this than I thought.."  
  
"Oh, I’m very good at this, Professor."  
  
You laughed, squirming lightly, feeling the heat pour through your nether regions when he called you by your title, circling his finger gently around  
your sensitive clit, slowly sliding it down to rub around your entrance,  
before pushing it inside you, making you moan. You open your eyes to view him licking his lips, rubbing himself through his trousers. Suddenly, the thought of indecency flies through your brain. You grab his hand.  
  
"Oakley, stop. This is inappropriate, not to mention illegal.."  
  
"I’m legal, I’m 22! And you’re only 5 years older than me!" He yells at you.  
  
You can’t help but laugh at his hurt expression.  
  
"Oh honey, but you look like you’re barely 19. And I meant illegal as in I  
  
might lose my job.” You started rising up from your beach chair, but, he pushed you down, loosening your grip on his hand to pull apart the sides of your summer dress, sending buttons flying around, his eyes widening at the sight of your naked breasts.  
  
"I knew you weren’t wearing a bra…" He squeezed your breasts. You gasp.  
  
"Oakley… we-"  
  
"I’ve waited far too long. I’ve seen the way you looked at me… You have no idea how much I’ve fantasized about fucking you… in class. I’d sit there and look at you and imagined how it’d be like to spread your thighs and.. you’re so fucking hot." He moaned, leaning over to end your argument, his tongue eagerly rolling around yours, his light stubble grazing your skin, making you hot. Oh you’ve seen the naughtiness in his eyes, but pretended it’s a figment of your imagination, awkwardly clearing your throat each time you caught his eyes focusing on your shirt, licking his lips while squinting at the way your dress wrinkled when you crossed your legs in class or his frequent visits in consultation hours.  
His fingers found your wet entrance again and proceeded to prod inside, his thumb pressing down on your clit. Your hips bucked up as you moaned to his lips.  
  
"Oh you like me fingerfucking you, don’t you, Professor?"  
You smiled, turning your head to the side. He licked your jaw, kissing your neck, nipping at your earlobe, deliciously sucking the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You were getting dizzy, feeling your juices flow around his competent fingers… the boy was better than you thought, soon having you panting and bucking your hips.  
"Fuck, Oakley, yes… fuck me."  
You heard the zipper being pulled down, and bit your lips. He shifted,  
positioning himself between your thighs. You open your eyes and see him looking hungrily at you as he stroked his cock. And oh my, that was a  
surprise. It was a delicious looking instrument, big even in his big hands.  
Your eyebrow arched up, and he grinned at you, that shit eating boyish grin of his.  
"Do you like it?"  
You licked your lips slowly, aroused by his filthy approach, tinglish with the excitement of having that gorgeous erection sliding inside your wetness.  
"Do you know how to use that thing, boy?" You teased, smirking at him.  
He winked at you and began pushing the head of his cock down on your clit, circling around. You moaned as you felt him slide it up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices, making you shudder with the desire to feel him  ripple through your walls. He pushed in gently, to the hilt, and you widened your eyes at him as your pussy accommodated its girth..

"Oh baby.." You moaned. He smiled at you, biting his lower lip, before pulling out and slamming himself inside, making you yell out a bit more loudly. You covered your mouth, afraid someone will hear you, and he chortled.  
"Oh you’ll be screaming some more."  
"I will?"  
He leaned over to lick your breasts, sucking loudly your hardened buds,  
moaning as he did so. Sound travelled your body, your mind hazy at the peak of your arousal - he bit your nipple, and sparks shot down to your core. You rolled your hips to get more friction. He pulled up to purr at your ear:  
"Yes. I know how to find all the secret little spots that will make you come,  
Professor..”  
  
"Mmm… Go on, show me. If you disappoint me, I’ll flunk you and you’ll have to work for hours in my office to make up for it.."  
"Oooh.. now you’re making me want to fail. But I won’t."

He rises up, pulling out of you before sliding in excruciatingly slowly, arching his back and undulating his slim hips as he directed his cock upwards inside you. You bit your lip, gasping. And then you felt it… the tumescent head of the erection touched your G-spot. You whimpered lightly, opening your eyes to look at him - his face lit up as he flashed his teeth again, before pulling out and in again, reaching the spot constantly. Your jaw fell open as he began thrusting fiercely, you could not contain the whimpers and moans pouring out of you as you felt flashes of pleasure wash over you, your tits bouncing up and down.  
  
"Oh god, Oakley… yes, yes, right there! Ah!"  
You screamed at a particularly hard thrust, making him chortle. He lifted your leg up, using it as a support as his hips slapped against your skin, his gorgeous slim body straining with the effort to fuck you into oblivion - you kept sliding up and down your beach chair. And you were getting closer… built up energy coursed your body.  
  
"Harder, baby, harder… ahh, I’m coming!" You yell out, throwing your head back as you felt the orgasm wash over you, your body squirming as you screamed, thrashing around. But he kept pounding at you, tightening his grip on your skin as he felt your cunt clench around his entire length, grunting with the sensation which was pushing him over the edge. He let go of your leg just as you were about to yell at him to not come inside you, pulling out abruptly, clenching his fingers around his hardness and rubbing nervously before he groaned and came, spilling his seed on your skin, droplets ending up on your pleasured pussy, the rest on your dress. You lean on your elbows, looking at him. After a few moments, he collects himself, and stares at you.  
  
"So, how did I do, Professor?" He asks, blinking innocently, ruffling his  
golden curls with his fingers.  
"Oh I don’t know. You do, however, need a lot more practice to pass. Let me teach you, Oakley, baby." You tease, beckoning him with your finger. He flashes his gigantic grin at you again, looking down almost shyly, before leaning over for a rough kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens a few years after the prologue.

Carelessly viewing the list of new professors, your eyes stop at a single name: _Brigham, O_ _._  
You smile to yourself as you sip on your coffee, your mind wandering back, way back to your little affair with one of your students. Four months of lewd behaviour in your office did you in: you had to quit, burdened with guilt. You moved to a new town, got a new position easily, due to the recommendations of your baffled colleagues. You sigh, remembering how the boy was eager, hungry of you. _Ah, well,_ you say to yourself, _lots of similar names nowadays,_ and you continue arranging your papers for the first meeting this school year, having arrived there long before everybody else to enjoy your coffee.  
You keep grading papers, tapping your pen on your lips, when suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. You frown, wondering why is the person knocking and you get up, tapping your heels annoyingly and open the doors – to view the most suprising scene:

in front of you stood a tall, elegant man in suit, bearing the face of your very own former student, only older, with a trimmed beard, his wild youthful blonde locks darker and contained in a flawless haircut. Your jaw fell open as you caught his eyes – unchanged, glowing with that same blue glow you enjoyed so dearly.

His eyebrows shot up at the sight of you, before his face softened into a huge, beautiful grin you knew so fell.  
"O-Oakley?" You stuttered.

"Yes." He said.

"You… what are you doing here?"

"I am teaching here."

"You’re Brigham, O…. of course.. but.. how.." You babbled, blinking at him.

"Aren’t you going to let me in?" He motioned with his papers.

"Yes, yes." You shook your head and took a step sideways, closing the doors behind you. He eyed the room shortly, lowering his bag and papers to the desk next to your seat. You were leaning against the door, watching him. He was in a flawless suit, which fitted him perfectly. His shoulders were wider than you remembered. He turned around and smiled at you.

"I thought that was you. I saw the name and… it’s a small world." He shrugged.

"You’re teaching?"

"Yes, Expressionism."

"That’s… that’s one of my former courses. I lectured you on that."

"Yes. I’d say you made quite an impression." He smirked at you. You blushed suddenly, somewhat perplexed by the change in him. He was older, and bigger, and… more experienced. And here he was, in your shoes, teaching the same things you taught him.  
"Oakley… I.. I am honored, really."

"Won’t you sit down?"

You almost stumbled walking back to your seat, but you forgot yourself and sat on a table in front of him, one of your legs still on the ground.

"You’re different… you’ve grown so much since the last I saw you."

"And you haven’t aged a day." He grinned at you. You chuckled, remembering well how sweetly the flatteries rolled off his tongue.

"Oh stop it. I’m an old cow." You waved your hand.

"At 32? Hardly. You’re as beautiful as the day I met you."

You smiled.

"So, how come you’re a teacher?"

"Well, I took your classes for a reason. I always wanted to teach."

"Yes, I remember. You were a good student, always, despite the.." Your voice faltered.

"Despite fucking my professor." He said, bluntly, his mouth widening into a smile. You closed your eyes, sighing.

"Oakley…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for taking advantage of you… it is unforgivable."

"I forgive you." He grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. You smiled.

"So, how’s life been for you? I see you have a job. Wife, kids?" You tried to lighten up the atmosphere.

"No, I’m afraid I’m still too young for that. Uhh.. you?"

"No. A girlfriend?"

"Why are you asking? You?" He smirked.

"I… am trying to small talk, Oakley. And, well, it’s complicated."

"You hated small talk. You hated all those little socialising rituals of uptight people. That’s what I loved about you, you would barge into the classroom and started reciting Trakl’s darkest pieces, pulling the curtains and asking us to shout out opinions."

You chuckled, before the smile washed off your face. You looked to the floor.

"Things change. People… get to you, eventually. They kill your spirit." Your mood suddenly took a darker turn. He leaned forward to bend slightly and look into your eyes.

"Who did this to you? The _it’s complicated_ guy? Who is he?”

You wave your hand.

"Ahh, he’s nobody. Let’s.. let’s talk about you. Look at you, in a three-piece suit, with a beard and a haircut and all… " You smiled.

"Am I that horrible?" He asked, his eyebrows rising.

"No! No, you’re very handsome. A bit bigger than I remember you. It’s a nice suit, anyway."

He had a lost look in his smiling eyes.

"You still wear these dresses, I see." He suddenly put his hand on your knee, and you realised you’re sitting on the table, when an electrical shock shuddered through you. His mouth was slightly opened, his eyes pinned to your leg as he slowly pushed the hem of your dress upwards. You caught his hand.

"Oakley.. no."

He rose from his chair and stood an inch from your face. You gasped.

"What are you doing?"

"Reading your eyes for truth."

You swallow a lump, your breathing a bit increased from the closeness. A whiff of his cologne shot up your nostrils.

He placed his hands on your thighs, pushing you up to sit on the table completely. You looked down and then up in his eyes, shaking your head.

"This is not… we…"

"Give me one kiss. Just one. And if you tell me you don’t want me, I’ll step away and not bother you again."

You open your mouth to protest, but he lunges at you, plastering his lips to yours. You yelp, your heart beating like crazy from the sudden contact. He tasted exactly how you remember him, with a tinge of… _something more._  
You open your lips and he pushes his tongue inside. _Oh god,_ how good that felt. A kiss charged with energy, with vivid, lively desire, making you moan with the deliciousness. A kiss that ended too soon. He separated, licking his lips, and looking into your eyes, waiting for your answer.  
You just stood there, lost for words.

"I…"

He kissed you again, cutting your words off. You placed your hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his around you, pinning you to him. You couldn’t help yourself, you moaned against his lips, his lustful lips – same lips that eagerly took yours five years ago, and yet, so different, more focused, more determined. He held you like that in a stronger embrace, more dominant.  
And he let go again, stepping backwards.

"So?" He asked, his eyes wide with questions. You licked your lips, looking to the floor, not being able to bear the piercing blues. You wanted him. Of course you did. You couldn’t remember when was the last time you were kissed like this, with passion and desire and… _life._ But.. you can’t. You sigh, looking at him, blinking repeatedly.  
"Oakley-"

Suddenly, you hear chatter outside. Your jaw falls down and Oakley looks to the door. You jump off the desk, straightening your dress and buttoning your jacket, and he adjust his suit and grabs his paper, just in time, as the doors flung open and an array of professors enter the room, nodding at you shortly, before they all took their seats.

You look at Oakley, and he is fumbling with his papers. The speech starts, the same boring faculty bullshit you have to go through. You stare at the desk, unable to focus on anything except for the dark suit of a boy..no, a man, next to you. You didn’t dare looking at his eyes.

"…Oakley Brigham, our new colleague." You hear somebody say. And with the sound of his name, you shudder, shock awakening you completely. He rises from his chair, presenting himself, talking shortly about his career and greeting everybody. You look at him, his official demeanor, the way he straightened his tie. All of a sudden, everyone laughs, and you realise he told a joke. You’re not even listening to him, just observing the way he flails his hands – ah, some things never change. It’s his signature movement. In a few sentences, he charms every single person in the room.

He sits back down, looking at you. You smile at him, before averting your eyes to someone else.

You feel a hand on your thigh, and you look at it, flinching. You put your fingers over it and try to push it off, but it doesn’t move. You lean forward, to avoid having everybody see this. Oakley shifts in his chair, placing the other elbow on the desk and pretending to listen to the conversation, but he ever so lightly dives his hand under the hem of your dress, lifting it up and squeezing the inner side of your thigh. You grit your teeth, clenching your thighs when you found yourself unable to push him off without much movement.

He kept sliding up, grazing his nails on your skin. Your cheeks are slowly reddening, as your skin responds to his touch, sending warm waves to your core – which was getting wet. _Oh fuck him._  
His gorgeous, long fingers found their way to the edge of your knickers, and you almost gasped, fidgeting in your chair. From the corner of your eye, you could _sense_ him smirking.

He pushed a single finger between the apex of your clenched thighs and pressed down on your clit. A frisson of arousal clicked through you, and you sighed loudly, pretending to clear your throat. He started rubbing around in circles, and your muscles unwillingly relaxed, so he used the opportunity to slip down to the wet spot an inch below. Just as he was about to dive under the fabric, the meeting was over, and everybody started pushing their chairs to rise from their seats. You abruptly pulled his hand away and jumped up, collecting your things and almost running out of the room, not looking back at him.  
You ran to your office, closing the doors and sighing heavily. You put your bag on the desk and wipe your face, not believing this is happening. Why did he come here? To ruin the careful, dull monotony of a _safe_ life you constructed for yourself? To turn your world upside down again?  
Your heart ached… his words reminded you of the zest you had, the lively contact with your students, enjoying how you roused their imagination, and subsequently, how you roused _his imagination_? All the steamy episodes in your office, clattered with poems and papers and mess?

You look around yourself. This office is so clean, so neat. Not a single pen out of place.

The guilt ate you. The guilt of seducing a student, of breaking the sanctity of that relationship. You hated yourself. You had to bail.

And you did, you ran to another town, to another, boring, habitual life. You clung to the first serious man who took you in, a lawyer with a secure life and secure opinions. A _safe_ man, so unlike the wild boy who chased you around the river bank, throwing you down on the grass, who got you drunk in the mornings, listened to your lectures as if you were a goddess. Who shared your passion, found the proper words when you could not think of them. Whose lips tasted of rebellion, wilderness, and untamed poetic lust… so unlike the vapid, flavourless, sturdy mouth of your-

A knock on the door woke you up. You jumped out of your chair, staring at the doors as if they are a gateway to hell.

A knock, again.

"I know you’re in there!" You hear him yell out. You bite your lips, closing your eyes, trying to ignore him. A knob squeaks and he opens, peering inside, his eyes landing on yours. You inhale, fear creeping up your spine as he enters and leans his back against the door.

"May I come in?"

"You’re already inside."

"You know what I mean."

You look away, through the window.

"You may come in, then."

"I’m already in." He grins, and you chuckle.  
"So I guess I’ve gotten my answer."

"I didn’t say anything. And I would’ve, but everybody entered an-"

"You didn’t have to. Your body spoke for you. And if there is something I know, it’s the language of your body."  
You lick your lips, not able to oppose him.

"Well, I couldn’t move your hand."

"You didn’t want to move my hand. You were _wet._ “

You hear a lock click, and you look at him. His hands were behind his back, locking the door.  
"Oakley… don’t do that."

"Do what? I didn’t do anything." He takes a step towards you, as you take a step back, reaching the desk.

"Oakley… no. Don’t come any closer. Oakley.."

You shake your head, putting your hands in front of yourself. He reaches you and takes your hands into his, intertwining his long fingers with yours, and lowers them to your sides. You look up at him, your eyebrows frowning as you close your eyes.

"Let me kiss you. Let me have you again." His lips touched yours, ever so lightly, and you shudder at the contact, at his words, opening your mouth and eagerly claiming his. His tongue lit fire, the wet hotness washing over you as he moaned and embraced you, his chest heaving against yours.

You sigh, throwing your head back, as he licks your jaw, reaching your ear and nibbling on it, making your breathing heavy, your knees weak. He lowers you on the desk, throwing your carefully arranged folders and pens to the floor with a single swipe of his hand. You turn your head around to view papers flowing to the floor lightly, and laugh at the image of scattered supplies.

"What is it?"

"My office hasn’t looked like this in such a long, long time." You look at him. "Too long, my beautiful boy." You smile, while he blinks in confusion.

"I’m not a boy anymore."

"You can grow your beard and tame your curls as much as you like, you’ll always be that boy. Or you can wear these tight-fitting, hot fucking suits.." You didn’t finish your sentence, your hands flowed down his sleek jacket, across the vest.

He smirked.

"Is this a thing now? Suits are your kink? Do you like it?"

"Maybe." You lick your lips. "It does fit you…"

"Maybe I should leave it on while I’m fucking you."

You bite your lips at his words, feeling yourself getting hotter.

"No. Take it off. Take everything off. I want to see your body again."

He grins and kisses you roughly, biting your flesh, making you moan. He unbuttons your jacket and takes it off, throwing it to the side, as you fumble with his, loosening the die, your fingers shivering as you throw his vest away and tug at the shirt. You shriek as he tears open your dress, biting your neck, licking his way down to your breasts. He looks at your bra.

"Why are you wearing this? It’s so ugly."

You laugh.

"It’s _supportive._ “

"Supportive of all the other ugly bras of the world, yeah."  
He unclasps it, and with a look of disgust throws it away, waving his hand as if he touched a worm. You laugh and laugh, covering your face, when you’re interrupted with his face nuzzling against the plumpy tissue, his nose kneading the softness, his beard rasping against your skin. You gasp, feeling hot, as he kissed the underside of your breast, before biting your nipple, the sensation making you even wetter than before. He suckled at the hard bud, flicking his tongue over it, and you moan loudly.  
"Oh, god, Oakley…"

He moves to the other breasts, repeating the same moist, suckling process, kneading his entire face into your breast. Kissing his way down, he chuckles at how fast and uncontrollably you’re breathing, ruffling his curls back into their natural state.

Your skin responds to him as it always did, every nerve ending on your body delighting in his wet lips, his able, swift tongue, reaching your mound. He spreads your thighs and takes off your knickers, letting them join the remaining clothes on the floor.

You catch his hungry gaze as he lowers his mouth to your aching core, parting your labia. You whimper, frowning with lust. He doesn’t take his eyes off yours as he inhales deeply the scent of your sex, before taking your clit between his lips and sucking lightly.

"Oh fuck!" You gasp, licking your dry lips. He proceeds to slide his tongue up and down your slit, lapping hungrily at your juices, moaning when it tickled your soaked parts, rolling it around your clit as your moaned into the air, mad with desire. His beard tickled your sensitive skin. Suddenly, he slid a finger inside you and you whimpered.

"So wet… " He added another, circling them inside you, as you whined, getting impossibly wetter, the filthy sweetness of lust spreading throughout your womb.

"Oakley… Oakley.."

"Yes, Professor?"

You laugh.

"Don’t call me like that.."

He thrust fiercely, making you shriek. You bore your eyes into him lustfully, before uttering:

"Fuck me… fuck me with your cock.. oh, I’ve missed it.."

You spoke the words, your mind spinning.

He rose to kiss you, unzipping his trousers and letting them fall down, kicking them to the side with his foot.

"I remember.." He licked your lips, panting heavily. "I remember how you liked sucking it.. I remember your lips wrapped around it, your cheeks hollowing as you took me deep inside your mouth.. mmm.." He purred, the naughty words reverberating through you. You take his head between your palms.

"Yes. I loved the taste of it. I loved how you fucked me, stretching me with your delicious, throbbing hardness.." You bait him, watching him frowning, his jaw dropping down in a haze of his lust. You felt him dipping his manhood into you shortly, dragging the lush wetness to your clit and pressing down, teasing you slowly. He always knew how to get you, and your eyes roll in their sockets.

"Don’t tease, Oakley, it’s been too long. _I need you to fuck me._ " You whine, staring into him, and he enters you in a swift motion, both of you grunting at the sensation.

"Oh god yes…"

He pulls out and slams in again, taking on a steady pace, rolling his hips around, the rich hardness massaging the entirety of your soaked insides, as you moan languidly, begging him to fuck you harder, deeper, clawing at his back, your heels digging into his buttocks.

He thrust eagerly, the vein on his forehead popping out, never taking his eyes off yours as you mouth obscenities into his lips.

"Come with me, baby.." You whine, feeling an orgasm approaching. He slides a hand down to fondle your clit, rubbing in tight, shallow circles.

And you feel it – the orgasm drawing through your sex, shooting sparkles down your thighs, making you squirm against his body as you yell out his sweet sounding name. Your walls tighten, and you dig your thighs into his waist, feeling your cunt spasm and coat his hardness. He grunts, kissing you wildly as the contractions clench and milk him. You both close your eyes to the remnants of the release, panting heavily, your sweaty bodies glued together.

You lay there, feeling the hard wood press into your back uncomfortably. You grunt, and just as you’re about to tell him to move, so you can rise up from the surface digging into your skin, he speaks:

"Let’s get you off this hard desk." And you smile as he pulls you up, wrapping your legs around him, letting him carry you to the small leather sofa. He lays you down, kissing you again. You slide your arms around his neck.

He separates slowly, rising up, and only then pulling out of you. You put your hands behind your head, smiling at him. He stares at your joint release oozing out of you.

"Remember when I wrote that thing about-"

"Of course I do, you tit. A poem about orgasm fluids, it was horrible. I can’t believe you read that in front of everyone."

"There were no filthy words!" He defended himself, and you laugh.

"Yeah, not a very intricate metaphor. I think everybody managed to decipher the meaning of your little dirty nursery rhyme."

He grins his wide, warm smile, and you can’t help but ache with how much you missed it.

He ogles you, staring at your skin, observing your breasts, following the curves of your hips, biting his lips when his eyes fell to your ravaged sex.

"Take a picture, it’ll last longer."

His eyes sparkle as he rises from the couch to find his trousers.

"What are you doing? No, Oakley, no!" You say, exasperated when he returned with his phone, pointing the camera at you. You cover your face.

"Remove your hands, I want to see you smile on this very naked photo."

You sigh and pout at him, returning your hands behind your head.

"Smile for me, will you? You’re so beautiful…"

Your lips stretch on their own, his flattery always getting you to do what he wanted.

You hear a click, and he chuckles, staring at the photo. Suddenly, he looks at you.

"I still.. have that old photo."

"What?"

"This." He says, tapping at the screen, and then he shows it at you.

"Oh my god!" You shriek, remembering when he took it: you were both naked, after the three days of staying cooped up in your apartment and making love and feasting on each other, during the celebration of your former university’s foundation anniversary, which you both missed.

You straddled him on the photo, throwing your head back as he kissed your neck, holding his hand up to click on the button.

"But.. this is your new phone."

"I transferred it."

You look at the obliviously happy expression on your face on the picture, your smile now fading.

"That was a good weekend." He says, laying on you and caressing your hair.

"Yes. Oh the amount of weed… I don’t think I’ve ever taken so much afterwa-"

Your phone rings. You both look to the desk.. The ring stops. And starts again. Three times it rings, and then the machine takes the message.

 _"Hey, it’s me, sorry. I just wanted to inform you Mary called me about the new offer for finger sandwiches, so call her, please."_  
It stopped, along with your heart, as your eyes widened. You were aghast with the voice of the man creeping inside your ears.

"Who is that?" Oakley’s voice makes you shiver as he rises up to look at you. You sit next to him.

"Richard. My fiancée.”

"You’re engaged?!"

"I told you it’s complicated."

He sighs, rubbing his forehead. You just sit there, blank, staring at the wall, emotionless. After a long silence, he speaks.

"So how is he?"

"He is a lawyer."

"A lawyer?! You’re marrying a lawyer?! You always talked how you’re never getting married because it’s a ridiculous institution and your love cannot be bound between legal characters on a paper! And a fucking lawyer!"

"Don’t yell at me Oakley. He is… kind. And calm. And secure. And he loves me… I think."

"Do you love him?"

You stare at the wall, not blinking.

"I asked you a question!!!"

"Do you have a cigarette?"

"You don’t?"

"No. Richard talked me out of it. It’s bad for my health."

He jumped from the sofa, grabbing his jacket, and throwing a pack of cigarettes at you. You took them from the floor, lit one up, inhaled deeply, and slowly released smoke out. You closed your eyes, the smoke cringing your face, and you feel the tears well up and pour out, sliding down your cheeks. You bury your face in your hands, weeping silently.

He sits by you, taking you into his lap, embracing you tightly as you start bawling like a child.

"I hate him. I hate him so much, Oakley."

"Why are you with him?"

"Because… because I didn’t know what else to do. I got lost." You wiped your tears, relighting your cigarette, and inhaling a shuddering smoke.

"So leave him."

You look at him, the words so plainly leaving his lips, the look in his eyes honest, and confused. The suggestion jarred you, your heart fell to your heels, but then Richard’s voice echoed your mind and you shook your head.

"I can’t." You inhale again, and look at the smoke, realising what you’re doing.

"I… really shouldn’t smoke inside, we’re not allowed.." You stutter, rising up from him and throwing the extinguished butt through the window.

"Who cares?! Who cares about that?! You never did!" He screams at you, and you look at him, shaking.

"Oakley… I just cheated on him. I.."

"Because you don’t love him!"

"I do!"

"You fucking don’t! Look at you! What have you turned into?! He drained you, you’re lifeless, with an ugly fucking bra, with a clean office, marrying a goddamn, dull, boring lawyer! I don’t even have to see him to know what he looks like! You hate such men! What happened to you?!"

You close your eyes, shuddering at each of his yells, his voice thundering down to your soul, making you cringe.  
"I am with him now." You whisper, wrapping your hands around yourself.

"You’re with him now?! The guy’s a fucking dial tone! ‘ _I wanted to inform you’_! ‘ _Finger sandwiches’_!He is everything you despise about society!”

"You can’t come in my life now, disrupt everything I’ve worked so hard for-"

"You flowed with the stream, you let go of yourself!"

You start crying again.

”..I.. I’ve.. finally made a normal life for myself, I have a j-job.. and Ri-Ric-R-” You can’t pronounce his name, it sticks in your throat like a lump of glue.

"Oakley. You have to leave. I can’t.. you can’t do this to me…"

"Do what to you? Make love to your body, to your mind? You left me. You left. Not a word. Not a letter. Just that fucking note. I’ve left countless messages in your phone."

"I know. I’m sorry. I… couldn’t live with the guilt. I’m so sorry, Oakley."

You whisper, feeling defeated.

"I thought we had something. I’ve never felt that way with anyone ever again."

You look at him, the hurt in his eyes clawing at your soul.

"I’m sorry."

"But here you are. Here we are. Now wasn’t that the best sex you’ve had in years?" He approaches you, trying to embrace you, but you keep squirming away, finally giving up after couple of minutes and allowing him to hold you against his warm, sweet smelling skin.  
"You’ve let him murder your passion. Don’t let it turn into cynical disdain."

You push him away.

"Get out! Get the fuck out of here Oakley!"

"But-"

"OUT! GET YOUR CLOTHES AND GET OUT OF HERE!" You scream from the top of your lungs, turning around to look through the window as he quickly pulled on his clothes, slamming the doors behind him, making you tremble with the sound of all of the warmth drawn out of your cold, empty office.


	3. Chapter 3

Like it wasn’t bad enough everybody found out you were his teacher - that dreadful afternoon after your fight, when you had to knock on his office to return his phone, which he left, and never came to get it, probably leaving you stranded intentionally, because he knew you were going to return it – you got assigned as his mentor for half of the semester, to check on his progress and make notes (a stupid habit of this university). So here you were, sitting in the front of the lecture hall, a few seats away from everybody, to be able to get a better look.

You were nervous, students were flying in, chatting, seating themselves, and he fumbled with his papers, obviously afraid. You found that charming, and immediately reprimanded yourself.

He announced himself, taking off his jacket and tie, and rolling up the sleeves of the immaculate white shirt he was wearing. You scoffed quietly. Show off.

He started throwing questions, attacking students with energy, his loud voice roaring around. You smile, folding your arms over your chest. He stole from you, from your old ways, from your energy.

He looks at you every now and then, winking subtly.

The class is over too soon, and you blink yourself back to reality, rising from your chair and darting to the door, turning around one last time to look at him. He dismisses a student and catches your eyes. You smile, giving him two thumbs up. He grins, and you wave as you exit the lecture hall.

He is a charming little fucker, always was, pulling his fingers through his hair, smiling, almost flirting with every single person in the room.

You walk back to your boring house, reminiscing how he used to flirt with you. You walk over the threshold, and your smile immediately drops at the sight of the dull, lifeless home.   
And two days after, it’s the same thing. You brace yourself to walk back into the lecture hall, taking your seat at the right end, in the front, writing the date on your notes.

Halfway into the class, he starts walking to and fro, drawing attention, seizing the concentration and frankly, leaving a lasting impression. He was good. Too good even. Inwardly, you thank yourself for that, feeling a little proud.

As he walks to you, you manage to take a good look at the blue shirt he was wearing, and your mouth opens in shock upon seeing the little irregular ‘x’ on the back of his sleeve. It’s… _the shirt._ The one you took all those years ago, and sewn a little x to mark it as yours, as the shirt you wear when you walk around naked, the one you wore to feel his scent whenever he wasn’t there. You’re lost now, and sounds echo your mind, fading away.

He still has it… you felt your stomach twist into a knot. No, he can’t… oh you hate him at that moment. You hate that he can flash you a shirt and get more rise out of you than Richard with all his gifts, all his serving you around, all of his persona, really.

You tear your eyes away, to look at the students. Oh there they were. Starstruck girls, leaning their chins into their palms, staring lovingly at him, whispering among themselves. You saw it. You saw the look in their eyes… they all wanted him. Your eye twitches. _Not your Oakley. Stupid little college twats._  
You shake your head – you have no right to claim him. He is a free man, a handsome man. He’ll have someone soon. You look to the floor – the thought wreaks havoc in your mind.   
And another class is over, you haven’t written a single note. Grabbing your things, you run out, afraid to look at him again.

The next night, you couldn’t sleep, you were rolling around in your bed, thoughts of naked skin and flashes of thrill teased you through the night, and after two measly hours of sleep, you rose, feeling unusually aroused, excited about seeing him today. You cleared your throat, and, entering the lecture hall, your heart skipped a beat when he looked at you, smiling. You smiled back as you took your seat, turning the third empty paper to try to note something at least today.

He talks about effects of war on the metaphors of Gottfried Benn, and reads excerpts from the other authors, but you cannot focus, you catch yourself ogling him, the tightness of his shirt, his long, black clad legs, the curve of his arse as he turns his back on you. And as if he knew, he walks to you, standing an inch from your desk, pointing a finger at someone in the back of the room, asking a question.

And there he was – your eyes travel from the sharp lines of his jaw, across his shoulders, following the trail of pectorals, heaving stomach, buttons straining from his breathing… down to the prominent bulge, clearly visible in these tight trousers – to your trained eyes. You knew what was underneath, you knew exactly how he frowned, and moaned deliciously as you rolled your tongue around the head of it… you bite your lips, staring at his crotch, clenching your thighs to fight your arousal.

You want to slide your hand from his hips to his arse, grabbing a handful of his tight buttocks, before unzipping his trousers with your teeth… you lick your lips slowly, and your eyes travel up, only to see he caught you staring, his lips twitching with amusement, before he cleared his throat and continued speaking, walking away from you. You look to the floor, berating yourself for being so blatantly turned on. You couldn’t wait to get away from him, run to the loo to wash your face with cold water, wishing you could change your underwear.   
As you walk out, you catch him standing outside, waiting for you.

You yelp with surprise, before he makes you back up against the wall, pinning both his hands on the sides of your head. You frantically look to both ends of the hallway.

"Oakley, move! Someone could see us!"

"There is nobody here."

He leans his head forward, his nose touching your neck, and you swallow a lump as he inhales loudly, moaning. You close your eyes tightly, feeling a surge of heat pool in your lower belly.   
"Oakley, no…"

"What were you thinking about in class?" You try to push him away, but his lips keep ghosting above the skin of your neck, his heated breath driving you crazy, making it hard to speak.

"Nothing."

"You were not thinking about us fucking?"

"No." You lie.

"Well, I have. I’ve thought about bending you over my desk and teasing you with my fingers until you beg… and you would beg, trust me." He lightly touches your skin with his lips, and you whimper, your breath shuddering - and immediately hating yourself for your weakness. He chuckles, separating from you, smirking.

You clear your throat.

"I’ll be needing your program. For the notes."

"Come by my office later. Now that is a sentence I thought I’ll never say to you." He winks, laughing and walking away, leaving you a heated mess, barely keeping yourself from sliding down the wall.

You wipe your forehead, trying to collect yourself, before leaving your things in your office, breathing deeply to regain confidence, but to no avail: by the time you found yourself knocking on his doors, you were secretly hoping he’ll push you down to the desk, unzip your jeans, pull them down and just jam himself inside you, considering you were completely wet, and oh so willing. You smile to yourself, trying to dismiss the thought, when you hear a _Come in!_  
And you walk in – only to catch him sitting on his table, talking to a girl from his class. She was holding her notes in her hands, and he had his fingers on her shoulder, smiling sweetly. Your nostrils flared, a surge of jealousy flying through you.

You clear your throat.

"Uhh, sorry to interrupt, Mr. Brigham. I just needed the program."

"Certainly" He said, and stretched his hand to the folder behind him, handing it to you. You walked to him, staring him down as you snatched the folder out of his hand, to the great confusion of the beautiful young girl, with a skirt that was a tad too short, who was looking at him as he if was a god. You nodded brusquely before darting out and slamming the doors behind you.

You found yourself seething with jealousy, completely irrational – since he wasn’t yours, but still, the thought of him showering someone else with his generous affection driving you mad. You broke the plate, throwing it to the ground. Richard frowned at you for disrupting his regular afternoon nap, in his ugly fucking slippers, on that ugly fucking sofa.   
Before you managed to somehow fall asleep, you made a decision – he wasn’t going to get you all riled up and laugh in your face. As much as he knew you, you knew him. You knew what turned him on, you knew that he wanted you.

The bastard was going to pay.   
You got up in the morning, opening your underwear drawer completely for the first time in months, to push your hand way back, to the darker part, which contained your sheer black bra, and your matching lacey thong. You entered the shower, letting the water run down your body, touching yourself – cupping your breasts, sliding a hand down to tease your sex, leaning your head against the tiles and imagining his long fingers entering you, pumping in and out while his low voice purred obscenities in your ear… you came, exhaling loudly, hurrying up to get dressed, smirking to yourself as you pulled your dress coat over your sexy underwear – which thankfully reached almost below your knees, buttoning up completely to hide your body from prying eyes. You took your jeans and shirt, and threw it in the backseat of your car, smuggling it to your office.

Taking a long breath, you enter the lecture hall, walking straight to his desk before the students came in, unbuttoning couple of upper buttons, to reveal your bra if you leaned forward.

"Oakley."

"Oh hey!" He greets you happily. You smile curtly before slamming his program down.

"I took the liberty of making a few suggestions. You made some mistakes, and I’d much rather say it to you than mark it down in my notes."

He scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah, yeah. What?"

"Here. You talk too much about Kandinsky, too little about Chagall. If you’re going to mention visual artists and painters, do it properly. Also, here." You point out to another blob of your mad red handwriting. He laughs.

"Ah, I forgot how harsh you can be. Listen, about yesterday, that girl… I didn’t even know she was going to visit-"

"I don’t care about that. It’s your own business. You can hang out with whom you’d like." Ahh, the bastard. You knew he did that on purpose. "Okay, so, it’d do you good to talk more about Rilke. They’ll read Brigge, they have to. But entrance them with Duino Elegies, have their hearts. It has to touch them." You lean forward, putting one of your hands on the desk, the other on _your heart._ Well, your breast, really. He looks at your hand, and his mouth falls slightly open, his eyebrow arching up, as you pretended to shuffle through the papers, bent over just enough for him to have a good look at your bra, the curves of your breasts, nipples visible through the material.

"Are you even listening to me? Oakley?" You look at him, and his eyes are wide, shifting from your opened coat to your face.

"You’re not.. wearing a shirt." He licks his lips, and you know his mind must be racing like mad, thinking about tearing your coat open.

You hear voices of students entering the room, and you hug your papers, placing them against your breasts to hide them, before walking to your seat and waiting for everybody to arrive. He keeps staring at you, breathing rapidly, unable to ask you anything else.

As the class starts, you make yourself comfortable, unbuttoning the lower buttons too, the only things holding the two sides together the middle ones. He clears his throat, rubbing his forehead to concentrate. Students were seat several seats behind you, unable to see anything but your back. The situation was perfect, and you find yourself getting aroused, despite letting off a little steam this morning.

He starts his lecture, ignoring you, walking to the other end of the classroom, talking and talking and talking… but his eyes eventually land on you. You saw the flare of his nostrils when his eyes landed on your thighs. You uncrossed your legs, widening the gap between them. He gritted his jaw, before clearing his throat and continuing talking, somewhat distracted.

You waited, knowing he’ll want to look again. And he does, only to catch you nibbling on your pen, rolling your tongue around the cap as your hand caressed the inside of your thigh, slowly reaching your mound. You felt yourself getting wet when he stared at you, completely smitten by your actions. He swallowed, closing his eyes and walking behind his high desk to hide the rising bulge in his trousers. You could hear whispers of confusion behind you, which made you smirk. He sat down in his chair, his tone wavering, sentences losing their edge each time he looked at you. You bit your lower lip, diving your finger under the side of your knickers, coating them in wetness and circling your clit. He stopped talking altogether, and an uncomfortable silence washed over the entire hall

"You know what? I’m feeling a little sick today, coming down with a fever. I apologise, really, but my head is spinning and I cannot continue talking anymore. We’ll just have to continue it the next time. Is that okay? You’re dismissed. Go have a cup of tea… or a morning beer, and enjoy this lovely day." He spoke, and everybody chuckled before gathering their things. You quickly buttoned your coat and started writing down gibberish words, supposedly focusing on your notes.

The last student walked out, and only then you looked at him. He was staring at you, fingers intertwined and resting his chin on them.   
"You seem distracted, Mr. Brigham. I might have to report this to the faculty."

"What are you doing?" He said as you rose, walking to him, smiling.

"Oh, just having a little fun, really. You’re not mad, are you?"

"You said ‘no’ to me. You asked me to stop. So what are you doing now? Is this about yesterday?"

You bend forward, taking his chin into your hand and staring at his beautiful blue eyes, an inch from yours.

"Payback’s a bitch, Oakley."

He smiles.

"So you were jealous."

"Naah. Just a little disappointed in you. A bombshell redhead, Oakley, really, that’s who you choose to provoke me with?"

"She’s hot."

"I thought you have a thing for older women." You smirk at him.

He sighs.

"You push me away, you keep me at a distance. But still, you want me to follow you around and pine for you?"

You look up, pretending to be thinking.

"Yes, actually. I quite like that."

He frowns, opening his mouth to speak, but you hold a finger up. “Before you say anything..” You say, reaching beneath your coat for your knickers, sliding them down slowly, making sure to coat two of your fingers with your wetness. He blinks at you, angry and aroused. You throw your knickers on him, pulling his jaw down and pushing two of your wet fingers inside his mouth. His tongue obediently starts licking them clean.

"I want you to think about this the next time you see the hot little redhead."

He stares at you, lost for words, as you give his cheek a light two taps and ruffle his hair a bit.

"See you around, my beautiful boy."  
You spin on your heel, winking at him, before prancing out, with a renewed spring in your step.


	4. Chapter 4

Your satisfaction lasted shortly, as you got home to see Richard having a lunch with his lawyer friends and their wives. You had to participate, drinking your wine in the garden by the pool, feeling prickles of disgust each time he wrapped his arm around you.

It’s becoming more often, the guilt for cheating him mixing with the certain physical feeling of not wanting to be touched by him anymore. And how could you? It wasn’t the touch you craved, those weren’t the hands your skin desired. You look at the pool, and your mind wanders off slowly, to that fateful trip to Italy, when your students invited you and several other professors to join them for a two week vacation during the summer break. You were honoured, and you sat down at evenings to talk with them, drink with them, all the while stealing glances at the wild, young Oakley, feeling uncomfortable next to him, each time he offered you a glass, his fingers touching yours.

And the third night you were drunk. Really drunk. You bumped into him while walking out of the toilet, and the two of you stood there, in a narrow hallway, staring at each other, while he slowly leaned his head and touched your lips. But you flinched, shaking your head and quickly walking away. Several hours and heated glances later, you were alone, fucking on the bench, skinny dipping in the pool, fucking in there also. You dragged him to your room, licked his entire body, and you both came two more times, until you were so tired you fell asleep.   
You sipped on your wine, staring at the pool and smiling to yourself.

"…Liddy?"

You blink, returning to reality, the sound of your nickname making your eye twitch. He knew well how you hated it, always explaining to him ‘Lydia’ is bad enough as it is.

"I’m sorry, I’m a bit tired today. Yes?"

"I was just asking have you already talked to Mary about the decorations?" For the wedding, he meant. Mary, your friend and your wedding planner, was working hard, and… you haven’t talked to her for the past week and a half.

"Umm, no, I’ve been kind of busy, with the lectures and the mentoring, sorry…"

"The poets are dead, they’re not going anywhere, they can wait a bit." Richard removed the strand of your hair from your face as they all chortled. You were serious.

"It’s my job, Richard."

"Oh come on, I was joking. But it’s books, you know…"

"Maybe if you took the time and read one of them, you might understand why it consumes one’s soul completely."  
He sighed. “I don’t want to go through this again, Liddy.”

"It’s Lydia."

A woman at the table cleared her throat to break the uncomfortable silence.

"So, Lydia, what about the dress?"

"It’s… I haven’t picked one yet. You know what? I have a bit of a headache. I hope you won’t be mad if I go lie down."

"No, no, go ahead." She replied as you excused yourself, downing your glass of wine and walking to your room.

"Maybe it’s that time of month." You hear Richard say behind your back. Fucking moron.   
The next morning, you woke up with a headache, groggy from the horrible sleeping pills you had the afternoon before, pulling on your clothes and driving to the college, grabbing coffee on the way there.

You’re feeling horrid as you try to unlock the doors of your office, fumbling with the keys. Suddenly, somebody wraps their arms around you and you jump up.

"Guess who it is."

"Oakley goddamnit! You scared me! Let go!"

You push the doors open and you both enter. You place your things on your desk, sighing.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to listen to your lecture." He grins.

"No, you’re not a student anymore."

"It’s an open lecture, anybody can listen."

"Suit yourself, then." You wave your hand, annoyed.

"Hey… what is it?"

You rub your forehead.

"It’s nothing, it’s just one of those days."

He takes a step towards you.

"Has Richard upset you?" He says, stroking your hair. You close your eyes, turning around, but he places his hands on your shoulders, squeezing lightly and sliding them down your arms. You didn’t move. You didn’t want to move.

"You’re tense. Relax. Breathe."

He embraces you and you feel yourself slouching, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lips softly touch your temple.

"Just breathe. I’m here." You sigh, your breath shuddering. Turning slowly around, you wrap your hands around his shoulders and nuzzle your face into his neck, inhaling his scent.

He says nothing, just keep stroking your hair and lightly kissing your head. After a few minutes, you separate to look at him.   
"It’s going to be boring, I suck nowadays."

"So I’ve heard. Maybe seeing me there will help you." He grins, mocking you. You shake your head, turning around, taking your coffee, but he puts a hand on your shoulder. Your finger slips and it falls down to the floor, contents spilling out.

"Fuck! I can’t! I can’t with this fucking day!" You yell, the frustration returning quickly.

"That’s it." He says, turning around to grab a pen and a piece of paper.

"What?" You ask, as you watch him write. _' 10:00h lecture cancelled '  
_ "Oakley, no, I have-"

"No, no, you’re taking the day off. Think of an excuse tomorrow. Come, I owe you a coffee."

He grabs your bag and your keys, walking out.

"Come on!" He yells when you don’t move, and you follow him to the lecture hall, where he pins the note to the doors and grabs your hand, dragging you out.

You enter his car, wondering what the hell you’re doing – driving to the park, where he drags you to a small café. You sigh with relaxation as you look at the pond and the greenery.

"Okay, so, maybe this was a good idea."

"Of course it was." He smiles, and you order your coffees.

You look at him, the sparkles of light sunshine playing around his curls, his blue eyes glistening at you.

"What did he do?"

You sigh.

"Nothing, actually. He’s… incapable of doing anything. He’s.. kind."

"Hmm… the calm type. And you’re marrying him…why, exactly?"

"Oakley…"

"Okay. Okay. Sorry. Why are you upset?"

You stare at the shimmering surface of the water.

"Sleeping pills. I slept for more than 15 hours. I had them with wine. And the dress.. I can’t pick up the dress. I hate wedding dresses."

You blabber. He says nothing, and you look at him to see his eyes pointed at the floor, a sad streak of azure washing over them. Your heart hurts.

"So, I don’t have your phone number. For.. mentoring."

He looks at you, blinking, waiting for you to type it in. He still has that lost, hurt look in his eyes.

"A walk around the park?"

He nods quietly as you leave money on the table and rise, waiting for him to follow you. You walk quietly, the silence weighing down on you, and you can’t bear to see him like this, so you stop, grabbing his head and kissing him.

"Don’t pity me." He says, licking his lips.

"I’m not. I wanted to kiss you."

"You didn’t."

You shrug and continue walking. You smile to yourself as you push a hand around his waist, holding him close. He looks at you, pursing his lips, before resting his arm on your shoulder.

"Where are we going?"

"We can sit down there a bit." You point to the stretch of large blocks of stones by the water.

"It’s a nice park."

"Mhm." You nod as you sit down. He stares at the water.

"Oh come on, don’t pout. You were supposed to cheer me up."

"Yeah, in a second."

You sit an inch closer to him. And, when he doesn’t notice, and inch more. And one more, until you’re almost pushing him off his seat. He smiles at you. You throw your leg over his, and then the other one.

"What are you doing?"

"Making myself comfortable."

"We’ll fall off."

You shrug.

"I don’t care."

He sighs and looks over yonder, to the other side, to the trees swaying lightly in the gentle breeze.

You were annoyed now.

"Can I have your phone and wallet for a second please?"

He looks at you.

"Why?"

"Just a second."

He blinks and takes them out of his pocket, handing them to you. You place them down, sighing, and removing your legs, before grinning and pushing him strongly, until he slides off, caught by surprise, and falls into the water. You start laughing as he dives out, shaking his hair, staring you down.

"What the fuck, Lydia?!"

"You were BORING!"

He climbs out, staring at you, mad.

"This… this is too much." He shakes his head and bends down to pick up his phone and wallet, before storming off, water sploshing comedically in his shoes, and pouring down his shirt and trousers.

You grin to yourself, jumping up and following him.

"Hey, wait for me!"

"I hope that cheered you up."

"It has." You pull his hand like a child, making him stop.

"It’s your fault, you dragged me out of that building. Suffer the consequences!"

He looks at you.

"Give me a hug."

"Well, you have to get changed fir- no, Oakley.. no.. don’t get any closer!" You start running, but he catches you, both of you falling down to the soft grass, and you shriek as he starts hugging you, making you completely wet with cold water, while you’re trying to push him off. He stops, looking down at you, a smile in his eyes. You pull his head down and kiss him, feeling his tongue roll around yours. You moan lightly.

"Now, that cheered me up. Come on, let’s do something! I’m yours for the day!" You clap, rising up and tap at your clothes to get the grass off. Your dark jeans were okay, but the light green shirt has horrible stains on it.

"Mine for the day?"

You nod, observing the stains.

"And I can do what I’d like with you?"

"Yes."

"So, if I say I want you to climb that tree and jump into the water, you’d do it?"

"Yes…" You look at him pleadingly.

"Or.. if I say I want to take you to my apartment and fuck you for the rest of the day…"

You smirk.

"Whatever you want, Oakley."

He looks up to the skies and mouths ‘Thank you’, making you laugh, before walking over to you and kissing you passionately.

He holds you around your waist as you continue walking, ignoring the puzzled looks of people, him being wet and you full of stains.

"I’m just going to stop at college, to get clothes, it’s closer than my apartment."

"Ok. I won’t, I don’t care."

"Oooh.. what would _Richard_ say?”

"I don’t want to hear that name."

"I’m fine with that." He nods, smirking, as he opens his car doors. You lean over his back, grabbing a handful of his arse, growling, making him laugh.

"God, I wanted to do that so much…Have you been working out?"

"Mmm.. a bit. Is that all you wanted to do?"

You kiss his ear.

"No… the other day, I really wanted to blow you."

He inhaled sharply, clenching his fists.

"Don’t say such things to me."

"Why? Does it make you… hard?" You lick his ear as you slide your hand around his hip to reach inside his trousers and grab his manhood. You laugh as you spot two women with kids staring incredulously at the two of you.

"Maybe not here. Come on." You pull your hand out and walk around the car, entering.

"Drive!" You punch his shoulder.

You wait for him in the parking lot, going through the car drawer to find cigarettes, inhaling fervently, pushing various cd’s inside the player, settling for The Clash’s Brand New Cadillac and swaying your hands around, tapping your knees, the little car filled with smoke by the time he got back. He waved the smoke away and started the car.

"Jesus, open the windows, Lyd."  
"Ooh! There is a bar, two blocks down. A real bar, dark, with drunk people at noon. Let’s go there!"  
"Aye aye.."   
He stomps on the pedal, and you guide him down the streets.

It was an awful, dingy alley, with a sign flickering in the entrance.

"How did you find this?" He asks, looking around as you pull him to the bar, ordering a scotch.

"Isn’t it a bit early..?"

"Says the man who used to make me take B52’s as early as eight in the morning."

He laughs, taking a sip. The bartender wipes glasses, staring at your shirt. You wink at him, and that reminds you to look at Oakley wearing _your_ blue shirt.  
"This shirt.. Oakley, I can’t believe you still have it."

He looks down his chest.

"Always." He smiles at you, and you lean over and kiss him. He takes a sip of his scotch, cringing.

"What is wrong with you?" You ask, baffled by the faces he makes.

"It’s just that… I haven’t really slept last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about that little shenanigan you pulled off yesterday."

"Haha… ah, and those were my only good knickers."

"I’m wearing them right now." He speaks, and you burst into laughter.

"Oh!" You say, wiping your tears and walking to the jukebox, putting on Dance Little Liar by Arctic Monkeys, lifting your hands and swaying around, walking back to him.

"That’s a good song."

"Yes it is." You mumble, wrapping your hands around his neck, kissing him, caressing his face.

"You’re so beautiful" He whispers to you, and you kiss his nose, and nuzzle your cheek against his.   
"Miss? A drink for you."

You look at the bartender.

"A drink?"

"Yes, they sent it." He points to a table, and you see two of your students waving at you.

"Fuck." You swallow, closing your eyes shortly before walking to them.

"Umm, hi."

"Hello!" The girls greet you. "No class today?" They laugh. You smile lightly.

"Yeah.. uh, listen, I’d actually appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to anybody you saw me today. Here."

"Is that professor Brigham?" One of them asks, smirking at you. You bite your lip.

"Charlotte, honey…. I need my job. I.. will owe you one if you do me a favour and not speak about this to anyone, ever. Don’t fuck me up."

She raises her eyebrow at the profanity.   
"Really. I’m… at a weird place in my life right now."

"It’s okay, professor. I understand. I don’t have any reason to tell on you."

"Thank you. And thanks for the drink."

You simper at her, walking back to him, not believing a word she said, but still hoping she’ll keep her mouth shut.

"We can’t be here, let’s go." You leave money at the bar and drag him out, nodding shortly at your students.

"Fuck it!" You yell as you sit in his car.

"Maybe they won’t say anything." He tries.

"Ahh, whatever. I don’t care. Take me somewhere… go, go."

He drives through the streets, stopping at a liquor store to buy a bottle of wine, and then leading you up to his apartment.

"This looks like that shithole I used to live in. I love it" You smile at him, sitting down at a table.

"Are you hungry?"

"No." You open the bottle of wine, and pour a measure into two glasses. He takes a sip, his eyes playfully observing you. You lean forward and kiss his lips, his tongue tart, tasting of wine.

You step away and start unbuttoning your shirt, taking it off. He observes your movements, licking his lips.   
You continue undressing, throwing your jeans to the side, taking off your bra and knickers. He inhales sharply and looks in your eyes as you walk to him, leaning your entire body against his, and his hands slide down your back, cupping your naked buttocks. He kisses you, sucking on your lower lip as he squeezes your skin, touching you everywhere. That’s the touch you’ve been craving for days, his fingers, the taste of him, the scent of him. It fills the air around you as he licks your lips.   
"Oakley… I’ve missed you. I’ve been wanting this for days. Stand still." You whisper to his ear as you start undressing him, gently pushing off his shirt, unbuttoning his trousers and taking them off. You kiss him, and continue biting his jaw, licking the tasty skin of his neck. You caress his arms, and his stomach, holding your hands on his hips - you let your lips explore the changes on every inch of the beloved skin, licking his nipples, kissing your way down to his hardening manhood. Your fingers trace the V of his jutting bones, and you smile at the group of tiny freckles you remember resided there, on his right hip. You kiss them, and look up at him, to see his eyes full of lust, glistening with desire so strong your heart skipped a beat. He wanted you completely. He wanted your soul. You felt it, the tension which threatened to rip through him if you refused him, if you pushed him away again. The knot in your stomach tightened as you rose up to kiss him, drinking his breaths. You knew in that moment, as your skin recognised and lovingly remembered the familiarity of the touch – you knew that you once loved him. Even though you’ve suppressed that emotion, it was clear now, you loved him more than you loved anyone in your entire life. Your eyes fill up with tears, and you squeeze them shut, feeling a single droplet pour down your face. He separates from you, wiping the tear with his thumb, smiling sadly at you.

"We don’t have to…"

"No. I want you. I need you. I need you to make love to me." You say, holding his face in your hands. He closes his eyes, frowning for a moment, before opening them and dragging you to his bedroom. You both lie down and continue kissing, as you pull him on top of you.   
He sucks at the skin of your neck, and his wandering hands ignite fire in you, pooling low in the pit of your stomach, making you wet. You gasp, whispering his name.  
He kisses your breast, suckling the nipple. You can feel thick, heavy droplets of arousal seeping out of you, and you pull his face to yours; spreading your legs and wrapping them around him. He squints at you, licking his lips sensually before reaching down to place his hardness at your entrance and pushes in slowly, as you moan.

You undulate your hips, coating him entirely with your wetness and he gasps, frowning with lust, pulling out slowly and pushing in again. Your eyes roll back in their sockets as a wave of salaciousness washes over you, feeling him thrusting steadily, slowly, inside you.

"Oh god…" You swallow loudly, realising you haven’t had sex like this in years… feeling your body completely weak, skin sensitive to the edge of pain, your breathing ragged and short.   
You caress his taut skin, sliding your hands down his chest, to his back, where you dig your nails in and he moans, burying himself to the hilt and standing still. The only sound heard is your loud breathing. Your lips are almost touching, staring at each other’s eyes with such intensity you felt as if the colour is pouring into your vision, mixing with the heady perfume of his body, his sweat thickening and the heat of it evaporating, slithering over your skin, erasing time lost, erasing everything that disconnected you from him, bridging the gigantic chasm that teetered constantly between the two of you for the past couple of weeks.

He connected his lips to yours, inhaling loudly, and started moving himself inside you. You whimpered against his lips as you felt the neglected parts of your insides reacting, awakening to his knowing touch. You felt a map of scintillating dots of your body glowing proudly, all the dots that responded to him, the shimmering, sweet, delectable sparkles of thrill.   
You were high on him, your mind ensnared by the scent and the sound and the taste. He kept thrusting inside in what seemed like a slow pace, completely burying himself, before completely pulling out. Or perhaps just time slowed down for you?

The only thing you were sure of is that you found the purpose of your body - it was to be pleasured by him. You had to let go of speeding thoughts, allow yourself to fall from consciousness. And you did.

Mouthing quietly his name, you said you were coming, and you felt the uncoiling of your core, your body arching up and writhing against his with an incoherent moan. The orgasm pulled through you, full and luxurious, with a beautiful wall of white light as your insides started clenching him down, slowly and hard… he stopped moving and moaned languidly against your lips, grunting and flinching as he came, jamming one last time in, letting go of his tension, shivering one last time before letting his body fall down on yours.  
You held him tightly, breathing against his forehead, caressing his hair as your sweaty bodies heaved in unison.   
He pulled out of you, and pulled you on your side, to look at your face. You laid like that, with a single harmonious thought keeping your eyelids up.   
You don’t know how much time passed before his eyes started getting tired, and he slowly closed them. He probably hasn’t slept for couple of days. You smile at his sleeping figure and lean forward to kiss him lightly.

"I love you." You whisper, before rolling over and rising out of the bed. You go to the kitchen to pull on your clothes, and then you see it. His blue shirt. _Your blue shirt._ You smile, throwing your own stained shirt into a garbage bin and pull his over you, rolling up the sleeves and inhaling deeply. You return, covering him with a sheet.

Sighing, taking a pen out of your bag, you write on the pillow - long forgotten words of desperation and truth, read in a furtive moment of your fresh love some years ago:  
 _”_ _Angel: if there were a place we know nothing of, and there,_

_on some unsayable carpet, lovers revealed_

_what here they could never master, their high daring_

_figures of heart’s flight,_

_their towers of desire, their ladders,_

_long since standing where there was no ground, leaning,_

_trembling, on each other – and mastered them,_

_in front of the circle of watchers, the countless, soundless dead:_

_Would these not fling their last, ever-saved,_

_ever-hidden, unknown to us, eternally_

_valid coins of happiness in front of the finally_

_truly smiling pair on the silent_

_carpet?_ _"_  
  
You lean and kiss him one last time, before tiptoeing out of his apartment to the setting sun outside, putting on your sunglasses to hide the glow of love and pain in your eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

You haven’t talked to him in four days. You were in your house, avoiding seeing even the daylight, dragging around in your pyjama bottoms, ignoring Richard’s requests to explain what is wrong with you. Staying up late, you avoided sleeping with him in the same bed.

However you had to reply to the question whose shirt was the one you were wearing. You said it was your brother’s, and how hasn’t he seen it yet? Since your brother died when you were 20 years old, he hasn’t asked another question.

You’d sit on your couch and read students’ essays, pulling the collar up to inhale the scent every couple of minutes. After three days and a half, you couldn’t resist it anymore; you’d grab your phone and start typing a message, only to delete it after couple of lines and put the phone down. Finally, you typed “ _Sorry I stole your shirt. I’m wearing it, and it still smells like you.”_ and sighed a heavy breath after the delivery report arrived. An hour later, your phone ringed and you almost threw yourself on it, scaring Richard, who was sitting in his chair and watching telly.

 _"I’m wearing your thong and it still smells like you."_ You snort at his reply, cackling.  
  


"Who are you texting?"

"Uhh.. Susie, from work. She sent me a funny picture of her dog."

"Can I see it?"

"Oh, I deleted it immediately. It doesn’t matter."

He frowns at you, before staring at the telly again.

You type:

_"I’m glad it fits you, maybe I should buy you some more and you can give me a lap dance."_

You bite on your fingernails, pretending to be scrolling something on your laptop, putting your phone on silent mode, and staring at the screen impatiently. It flashes a light, and you read:

_"Please do. I’d love a sheer red one, and perhaps one of those micro-bikini ones, that don’t cover absolutely nothing."_

_"Are you trying to tell me something?"_

_"Yes, I love me some thong. Would you be so kind and sending one of your ‘supportive’ bras too? It would totally match. Perhaps the one you’re wearing right now."_

_"I’m not wearing any."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yes. I want your shirt to touch my skin."_

A pause. You tap your fingers on your laptop, waiting impatiently. Ten minutes go by, and you’re huffing. You take your phone.

_"Are you still there?"_

_"Yes, sorry, thong is giving me a wedgie."_

You laugh loudly and Richard looks at you.

"Oh sorry… Susie.. she’s a funny one."

He rolls his eyes.

_"Stop making me laugh. R. getting suspicious."_

_"Silly man. Nothing suspicious about you."_

_"You’re Susie right now."_

_"Mad Hatter Susie? Now I’d like to see a thong on her. Maybe paired with that pink monstrosity from the other day."_

Before you have the time to reply, another text arrives.

_"Is he close to you?"_

_"Yeah.. living room."_

Your phone rings, and you stare at the screen incredulously before ending his call.

_"Wtf O.?!"_

_"Put him on the phone"_

_"NO, what is wrong with you?"_

_"I want to tell him I’m wearing your knickers."_

You chuckle, covering your mouth.

_"You’re mad. What are you doing?"_

_"Sitting on the balcony, smoking. It’s a beautiful evening."_

_"Fuck I’d kill for a cig right now."_

_"I’ll bring you one if you kill Richard."_

_"OAKLEY!!!"_

_"Fine. You don’t have to kill him. Just come over. I’ll let you have a smoke if you blow me."_

You don’t reply, not knowing how to answer him. Another message arrives.

_"A girl deep-throated me once for a pack, have I ever told you that?"_

_"You’re disgusting."_

_"But you’d totally do it."_

_"I wouldn’t!"_

_"Put R. on the phone and we’ll make a bet."_

The phone rings, and you end it immediately, holding back a laugh.

_"I’ll stop calling if you send me a picture of your breasts. Angle it just enough so I can see your nipple, but the shirt must be in the frame also."_

_"No"_

Your phone rings. You end the call. And again. You end another one. And three times more.

_"Fine, if you’ll fuck off!"_

You look at Richard. He has his back on you. Unbuttoning the first three buttons, you spread it quietly, revealing your nipples, which you pinch into hardness. You turn off the shutter sound on the camera and take couple of photos, carefully buttoning it back up just in time, as he turned around and looked at you.

"Is there anything to eat?"

"You tell me."

You don’t even look at him, and he sighs, rising up and walking to the kitchen.

You quickly pick the least blurry picture and send it, biting your lips.

_"Fuck"_

You smile to yourself.

"Richard?"

"Yes?"

"Are there any popsicles? Can you bring me one?"

He return few minutes later, with a sandwich and a popsicle, leaning over to kiss you. You turn your head away.

"Not now. Haven’t brushed my teeth."  
"I don’t care" He says and shoves his tongue in your mouth. You clench your fists, waiting for it to finish. He separates and looks at you.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I’m… it’s been a hard week, sorry."

"Have you thought about taking a break from college?"

"NO! I mean… no, teaching is everything to me. Don’t ask me to do that."

"Fine. I’m just suggesting-"

"Richard, no. We already discussed this."

He scoffs at you and resumes his place on his chair. You stare at the back of his head, wiping your mouth and closing your eyes.  
You unwrap the popsicle and start licking it, before taking your phone and putting the video mode on. You record only your lips, rolling your tongue around the tip, before hollowing your cheeks and sucking loudly.. pushing it in almost entirely. You press stop and quickly send the short recording, continuing to lick the popsicle, waiting for his reply.

_"Fuck, I’m hard"_

You read the text and lick your lips, feeling turned on.

_"Prove it."_

_"Fuck no. Unless…"_

_"Unless what, you tit?"_

_"Unless you finger yourself and send me the video."_

You purse your lips, looking at Richard, before taking a picture of flipping the bird, and sending it.

_"Yes, very good. Now slide that finger inside your wetness and press the little red button…"_

_"No wetness available."_

_"Liar. You’re positively wet. You’re an exhibitionist, this shit thrills you."_

You bite your lips, smiling, not answering him. You wait, trying to concentrate on the political talk show on the telly, hopelessly boring. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. And somehow, the wait’s making you more wet, the inability to touch yourself increasing the arousal.

The screen of your phone flashes, and you open the message. It’s a photo, and your eyes widen as it loads: he’s holding his hard cock, taking the picture with his other hand.

You lick your lips, staring at the veiny goodness, frowning as you squirm on your couch, wanting to fuck him right now. You type:  
 _"Now look at that video again as you stroke yourself. And then stop."_

_”?”_

_"To be continued… good night, Oakley. DO NOT COME."_

_"What the fuck?"_

You ignore the message, chuckling to yourself, trying to chase away your own arousal. You go to take a shower before going to bed, and as you lie down, you check your messages.

_"You’re so going to pay for this."_

You grin to yourself, before rolling your body into your sheets, so you don’t have to feel Richard touching you when he comes to bed. Luckily, you were asleep by then.

  
Tomorrow morning you have breakfast with your fianceé, when he asks you about the Dean’s dinner party.

"Jesus, I totally forgot!"

"I cancelled my meeting, I’ll come with you."

Your mind races. It’s the dinner party for faculty and students selected to receive an award for their extra-curricular activities or high grades. Everybody will be there. _Oakley_ will be there.

"But.. it’s really not that important. Maybe you should call your client and rearrange the meeting?"

"No, honey. I missed the previous ones, it’s rude. Everybody’s spouses always arrive. Plus we haven’t been anywhere for so long." He takes your hand in his.

"We’re not.. _spouses._ ”

"Yet!" He winks at you. "Oh come on, it’s going to be fun. Perhaps we can go grab a drink afterwards?"

"You’ll go for a drink?"

"Sure. I saw you moping around. I know it’s because I’ve been so busy… I promise, I’ll take care of you today. I won’t leave you alone for a second, darling."

You simper at him, staring incredulously. _Fuck._  
You pretend to read the papers as he exits to do some work, banging your head against the table.  
Feeling sick the rest of the day, you take a quick shower and put on your dress, awkwardly slapping makeup on your face, when he barges into the bathroom to kiss you, unusually excited.   
You’re silent on the way to the garden behind the West building on campus, swallowing loudly as you enter, scanning the place. You don’t see Oakley anywhere, and Richard drags you to offer you a glass of wine.

You sip slowly, chitchatting absent-mindedly, and then you spot him. He walks to the bar, ordering a drink, just as the Dean greets everybody, making boring jokes and talking constantly, before announcing the recipients of the award. You glance back at the bar, but he is not there anymore. Your eyes frantically search the crowd, but he is nowhere to be seen. You clap at the students, recognising Charlotte, and when she steps off the podium, she looks at you, and then at Richard, pursing her lips. Your stomach twists in a knot. She smiles subtly and walks away. Your eyes follow her, and she walks to the other end of a bar – to Oakley. He offers her a hand, congratulating.

"Lydia! You look absolutely gorgeous!" A voice makes you turn. It’s your colleague, Matt, and you greet him shortly, asking how’s he been, before Richard starts blabbering. They adore each other, something you never understood, and you steal a glance at the bar, but there is nobody there. Looking around, you see Charlotte dragging Oakley into the building, when he is trying to turn around and stop. You feel a surge of anger through you as you tighten your grip on the glass.

"Richard, I need to go to the loo. Matt" You smile shortly, tapping his shoulder, before storming off. As you approach the hallway, you hear Oakley’s voice.

”..Charlotte, darling, I’m afraid you misunderstood me-“

"But you look like you’re up for a good time, I’ve seen you drinking… come on, I’m good time. Let’s ditch this uptight crap of a party and go somewhere!"

"No, Charlotte, it’d be completely wrong, not to mention illegal.. you’re a beautiful girl-"

"Come on, professor Brigham, you already said I look beautiful tonight and-"

You reach just around their corner, your heels tapping loudly, and they both look at you.   
"What the fuck are you doing?" You say, seething with rage.

"Lyd, I didn’t-"

"Not you, Oakley. What the fuck are you doing?"

She laughs, waving her hand.

"What the fuck am I doing? Your fianceé is just outside! Why don’t you get your huge arse out of here and go be with him and leave us alone!"

"Charlotte, you’re getting a little out of line-"

"Oakley, a second, please. Hold my glass." You hand your wine to him and using all of your strength, you slap Charlotte’s face. She stumbles and falls to the ground, shrieking, and looking at you in horror. Oakley moves to give her a hand, shaking his head at you.

"I will tell everyone, _everyone_ you’re cheating! I’ll tell your fianceé!”

You squint at her.

"If you dare to do that, you little cunt, I will march right out there, snatch the microphone and tell everyone who you had to fuck to get this award on your resumé. _Everyone._ Do not threaten me, you have no idea who I am.” Oakley helped her up, and stared at the both of you, not understanding anything. She almost growled at you, picking the heavy glass ball with the logo of the university and running outside, away from the party and both of you.

"What was that about?"

You take your glass of wine from his hand.

"Our 54 years old Dean Roussel is a filthy old man, Oakley."   
He raises his eyebrow.

"Well, fuck me blind. I knew he reminded me of my father."

You shrug.

"Listen, I didn’t do anything, she dragged me here."

"I saw it, don’t worry. I’m sorry for making a scene."

He smiled.

"It was fun."

You smile back.

"Yeah, don’t get a-"

You hear voices approaching. Richard’s voice. Your eyes grow wide.

"Shit!" You take him by his hand and run down the hallway, frantically looking around before opening the broom closet and squeezing both of you inside. He looks at you in the near darkness of a single little automatic light on and opens his mouth, but your cover it with your hand.

"Are you sure?"

"No, I could swear I heard a woman’s scream from here. And she entered."

"You probably imagined it. She’ll be back."

"But.. Liddy?? Can you hear me?"

Oakley looks at you, his eyebrows up. You press your palm harder against his mouth.

"No, I promised her I’ll be by her side, she’s been dragging around the house like a dead cat the last two weeks, giving me the silent treatment, not even kissing me, because I’ve been ignoring her."

"I’m sure she’s talking to some of the girls in the loo. You know how women are. She’ll be back shortly. Come on, let’s get a beer."

Your hear their steps as they walk away, and let go of Oakley.

"So that’s Richard."

You nod, sighing.

"Does he know you hate it when people give you nicknames?"

"Yes. He always seems to forget that."

"But I get to call you Lyd."

You caress his face.

"Yes, you do."

He kisses you.

"Why is he here?"

You roll your tongue around his, the fear and tension turning into arousal as the kiss grows passionate, his raspy beard prickling your chin.

"He insisted… I couldn’t talk him out of it…"

You reach your hand to his trousers, grasping his manhood through them, and he moans.

"You were right. I am an exhibitionist. And I believe I owe you an orgasm." You bite his lip shortly, before sliding your back down the doors, to crouch, unzipping his trousers.

"Never wearing underwear. It’s a horrible habit, Oakley."

He grins at you, frowning when you take his semi-hard dick and pull it out, stroking it lightly.

You look up at him as you dart your tongue out to lick the tip, and ghost your lips over the velvety skin, reaching his balls, cupping them in your hands and squeezing gently. You look at the vein running underneath it, and plaster the length of your tongue against it, licking all the way to the top, tickling the frenulum. He clenches his fists against the door and hisses at you. You smile at him, before wrapping your lips around the sensitive tip, and suck loudly. You pull out, kneading your lips on the head, not taking your eyes off him, watching his expression growing hazy, enchanted by watching you. Your lips are completely slick, and you feel the taste of his skin mixing with your own as you kiss the tip, before opening your mouth to slide him inside completely, slowly relaxing your throat, remembering how much bigger he is than Richard.   
You close your eyes to chase away the tears from straining, and pull out, digging your nails into his thighs when he starts moving his hips. You continue gliding your tongue around the skin, using your hands to grab the girth and circle it, stroking him in a steady pace. Again, you swallow him, with less effort, and you proceed to do it until it’s easier.

"Fuck.." He groans, and pushes himself inside. You start speeding up gradually, bobbing your head up down, as you tickle his balls and push your thumbs against his perineum.

He growls and intertwines his fingers in your hair, caressing your head as he joins in the rhythm, fucking your mouth faster. You allow him to control it, before pulling out to catch your breath and play with the tip again. He bites his lower lip, and the expression on his face makes your sex twitch with desire. You take him almost completely in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, and, reaching your fist to rub him to the hilt, you start sucking furiously, increasing your movements to the fullest, until he grunts and huffs, and you know he is about to come, so you loosen the grip and reach your lips to the bottom of his cock. When it starts throbbing and twitching in your mouth, you look up at him, and he closes his eyes, moaning as he orgasms – you feel him spasming and oozing inside your throat. You swallow quickly, before taking his cock out, and push yourself up, your knees aching from the crouching position. He leans his head against the doors, slowing his breathing down, wiping the sweat from his forehead. You wipe your lips as he looks at you, smirking.

"What is it? Cat got your tongue?"

He swallows, trying to speak, but gives up, closing his eyes, exasperated. You chuckle at him, stretching your legs to move your knees a bit.

"I can’t fucking crouch for so long."

"Shit." He croaks, moving to kiss you.

"I.. wanted to fuck you.. but.. this wore me out more than I thought so.. I need a break."

"Oh baby, no. We don’t have the time." You kiss him, caressing his face. "Richard is searching for me."

He throws you a mad look, making you look down.

"Accept that as my apology." You smirk.

"I’d rather accept you dumping him as your apology."

You sigh.

"I don’t want to talk about that."

"Lydia…"

"Oakley, no. I don’t want to talk about that. I have to go."

You kiss him quickly and open the doors, hurrying out, leaving him inside to zip his trousers, getting away just in time, quickly fixing your hair.

As you got out, you hear Richard calling your name.

"LYDIA! There you are? Where were you?"

He almost runs to you.

"Oh.. I was talking to some of my students, why?"

"You’ve been gone for half an hour!"

"Sorry, I wanted to congratulate them all. They’re good kids."

"Oh, okay then… I’ve been talking to Matt, and he said we could go have drinks with him and his date, he has a new girl. "

"…Sure. We’ll see."

He takes your hand and walks to the bar, where you greet Matt, and you talk about the college, the new students, the changes in curriculum… all the very boring things, since he is exactly like Richard, with strict principles and no imagination whatsoever.

Suddenly, Oakley shows up, standing next to you, and you immediately stiffen.

"Lydia.. hello. I haven’t seen you here. How are you?"

"I’m.. I’m fine."

"Who is your friend?"

Richard asks. You open your mouth to speak, but Oakley extends his hand, gripping Richard’s a bit too tightly, and you stare at the handshake as if it was an electrical discharge.

"Oakley Brigham, nice to meet you. Lydia is my mentor, and I’m pleased to say, my former teacher."

"I’m Richard, Lydia’s fianceé. That must make it easy for you, young man, already used to her bossing you around." He chuckles, and you simper, swallowing a lump.

"Yes, she certainly _swallowed a mouthful_ of my mistakes back in the day.” Oakley grins at you, as you stare daggers at him.  
"So, Oakley, how’s work going?"

"So good so far, sir. No complaints."

"And I take it you teach… literature? We were just discussing a new suggestion on cutting funds for Arts down."

"Surely you disagree with such malarkey."

"Well, I’ve been convinced otherwise, thinking that perhaps that money might find a better use in something more _substantial_.”

"I disagree, Richard. I think the mental and spiritual development of the people is depending on the highest form of humanity – the Art."

Richard chuckles.

"Now I can see my Lydia dabbled with your reasoning." He wraps his arm around you, and you cringe, observing how Oakley’s eyes followed the movement. He sipped on his beer.

"And you, Richard, what is your noble contribution to the society?"

"I’m a barrister."

"Ahh, the noblest of us all. Helped locking away any honest people lately?"

You can _feel_ the tension increasing, Oakley’s jaw gritting as Richard’s hand tightened on your waist.

"I’m an honest man, Oakley, I don’t lock away good people. Only bad ones. That’s my contribution to the society. I believe it was one of your poets… Dickens, I think, who said that " _If there were no bad people, there would be no good lawyers.”_ And I’m one of the good ones.”

"Charles Dickens was a novelist. And I believe a more truthful quote was delivered by John Fogarty: _“Any society that produces twice as many lawyers as it does poets and preachers is doomed.”_ And on that profound note, I leave you to your party. Lydia, always a pleasure.”

He takes your hand and kisses your palm. You frown at him, before you see him slouch and walk away.

"Who is that coxcomb?" Richard looks at you.

"He is…" You stare at Oakley walking out of the garden. "One of the most intelligent men I’ve ever known in my life."

Richard squints at you.

"Well, I get why. He is just like you. I suppose it’s your teacher’s instinct to defend him, but I’m telling you, men like him are up to no good. And it was rude to touch you like that. But he is young, he just did that to get on my nerves. Matt, ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me phone Amelia."   
Richard looks at you and you nod, taking your purse and following the two of them, wondering why on dear Earth haven’t you slapped him and ran to catch Oakley.


	6. Chapter 6

He hasn’t looked at you the next two classes. Literally looked at you. And he had every right. You didn’t have the strength to walk to him.

Your mood took the turn to worst: cheating on Richard, who – let’s admit it – was the dullest man you ever dated, but he was always kind to you, put up with your moods, waited for you, appeased your parents… the only thing he didn’t do was make you want him… Lately, you couldn’t even bear him touching you.

And Oakley – you dragged him along, giving him yourself, and then refusing to be with him – pulling back when he grasped for you. Of course he was mad, it’s like you’ve left him stranded all over again. And you didn’t want to, you just didn’t know what to do. Leaving Richard seemed impossible. In the deepest, shady regions of yourself you cared for him.

You stared at Oakley, feeling your heart inflate like a balloon – and pour out of your body. Tears flow out, and you blink to clear them, but there was no stopping. You grab your notes and your bag and run out of the hall, hearing Oakley stopped talking behind you. You cry like a child as you run to your office, to curl on your sofa and weep your troubles away.

Yet, you can’t be here anymore. So you get up, wipe your makeup off, put on your sunglasses and walk out, to sit in the college park. But tears return, and you find yourself bawling again.

"Lydia! I’ve been looking for you!"

You don’t even lift your eyes.

"Are… have you been crying? Look at me. Take off those sunglasses."

He snatches them off you and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. He frowns.

"Leave me alone!" You yell, your voice shaky and hoarse.

"Why are you crying?"

You slap his hand away and turn your head.

"Lydia…" His soft voice sends you into another fit of tears, and he pulls you to him. You try to get away, but your drained energy renders you unable to, and you allow him to pull you onto his lap, where you convulse into crying. He holds you firmly while you tremble.   
"Lydia… did I make you cry?"

You just wail more loudly.

"Is it because I ignored you? I’m sorry, my love, I’m sorry…"

You look at him.

"No… no, Oakley, you have every right to not s-s-peak to me ever again… I j-j-just.. I can’t bear it… I’m s-s-uch a horr-r-ible person, Oakley, I des-s-erve to be treated like a pariah…"

"No, what are you saying? I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you-"

"Angel, I don’t deserve you."

You caress his face, blinking back your tears.

"But I want you. You make me feel like there is a purpose for being alive." He says … and you close your eyes. "Be with me. Leave him."

"I can’t. I am to marry him, I have to."

"You don’t! …Marry me!"

You open your eyes.

"Marry me instead! We’ll buy a fucking ugly house and have a wedding if you want all that!"

You can’t help but smile.

"You know I hate all that."

"So why are you going through with this?!"

"Oakley, not now. Please, not now. Please."

He sighs.

"Fine. I’ll do whatever you need to be happy."

You cover your face with your hands.

"Oh god. I don’t deserve you."

"Yes, you don’t."

You smile.

"You should find someone else, Oakley."

"Nobody else gives that good head."

You laugh through your tears.

"Oh come on."

"I’m serious." He says, and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, opening it and counting.

"Fourteen more blowjobs and you can have the pack."

You laugh, punching him lightly and pulling out a cigarette, lighting it.

"Someone could see us." He says, looking at the small groups of students sitting a bit farther away.

"I don’t care."

You think that… maybe _that_ would solve your problems, someone telling Richard you’re cheating on him. But you couldn’t handle doing that to him – this would have to destroy him, if you left him for Oakley, you would break his heart, and you couldn’t do that to a man who loves you. You would have to sacrifice him. And _you couldn’t do that_. You don’t deserve love like Oakley’s. You don’t deserve that much happiness… you’re a bad person, deep down in yourself. You hate yourself. So you inhale your cigarette in silence, afraid to say all this to him, and observe the comforting billowing smoke.

"You know what you need? You need to get drunk out of your mind and dance with me."

"I need to fucking die and get buried is what I need."

"There is a karaoke party tomorrow night. Some students invited me."

"I don’t want to go."

"Well, I will. The girls insisted."

You look at him.

"The girls?"

"Yes. Yvonne."

You frown.

"The _bombshell redhead_?” He clarifies.

You roll your eyes.

"There is no telling what they might do to me. I am very popular around here…"

"Oakley…"

"I could get raped if you’re not there to defend me. There will be volunteers spreading their legs for me. I will be so sad you didn’t come I might just grow weak enough to fuck one of the young, voluptuous girls with perky breasts and wet, tight-"

"Oakley!"

You hit him, and he laughs.

"Come with me. Relax."

He kisses you, and you think about it, unable to handle the thought of him surrounded by those women. Also, delaying facing the reality seems like a balmy ointment to your inner wounds.

"Ok, I’ll come."

He makes a _fuck yeah_ clench fist, and you smile.

"Maybe you can mud wrestle them for me, hmm? I’ve seen what you’ve done to poor Charlotte."

"Ugh. Don’t mention that little slut."

He laughs.

"I like seeing that. I think I’ll rev you up just to watch you cat fight for me."

"Don’t push it, Oakley. I’m in no mood."

His hand that was around your waist reaches under your shirt to graze nails against your hip.

"Wasn’t it you who asked me what I think about threesomes once?"

"Those were different times. I though I was up for it."

"And what about now?"

He moves his hand and draws circles around your navel. You take his face into your hands.

"I don’t want to share you with anyone. I want to be the only one pleasuring you."

"Pleasure me, then."

He purrs in his deep voice, and your bite your lips to the smouldering sound of it.

"Tomorrow night it is, _then_.” You kiss him, breathing in as much of him as you can.

"I have to go. I have a class."

"Okay. Call me."

"I will, my beautiful boy." You kiss his nose, and he flashes you his shiny, huge grin.

"Ah, that smile is worth dying for." You say to him, putting on your sunglasses and leaving the heat of his body, not looking back as you make your way to the lecture hall.

You’re late fifteen minutes, and students squirm in their seats. You throw your bag on your chair and sit on the desk, indian style .

"I’m sorry I’m late. I assume you see how swollen my face is. Now, to avoid having you all trying to guess why is that - I’ve been crying for the past hour. Life is a piece of shit, as you know it."

You pause, looking at their surprised reactions.

"I want to try a little something different today, if that’s okay with you. The lesson is Samuel Beckett… Now, I’m guessing you all read at least something by him, back in high school. So, let’s brainstorm impressions, ideas, facts. I will point at someone, and they have to say a phrase, a term, a quote, or anything by our beloved Beckett. Let’s make it a theatre."

You start pointing out at them, eventually creating a confusion of thoughts, and the hour and a half flies by.

You wonder on your way home why haven’t you been yourself for so long, as the impressions you get from your students make you feel _alive._ You were scared to return to the place of happiness. Plus it did not fit in with the new, parent-approved lifestyle you so meticulously created for yourself the last five years.

The jolt of excitement does not elude you the rest of the day, and you decide you must talk with Mary. She thinks you’re inviting her for a drink to talk about your wedding, but instead, as you close her portfolios and fabric scraps catalogs, you sigh.

"What? Don’t you like _anything_?”

"It’s not that, Mary. I… We’ve known each other a long time."

"Yeah, since you moved here. Why?"

"I… something is happening."

"What are you talking about? Jesus, you’re scaring me. What is it?"

You laugh, covering your face, not knowing where to start.

"Remember when I told you about my affair? About the guy I got away from, Oakley?"

"Yes, of course I remember. You were obsessed with him."

"Well… he’s here."

Her eyes widen.

"I mean.. he got a teaching job at my college. He is a professor. Of courses I taught him."

"Wha… Jesus, really?!"

"And, well…" You rub your forehead. "I’m not really over him, Mary."

She leans forward, staring at you.

"What did you do, Lydia?"

You bite your lips.

"I… slept with him."

She gasps, covering her mouth.

"How?"

"He… is.. I can’t resist him."

"Fuck, Lydia! What about Richard?!"

"Shhh, be quiet! I don’t know.. I don’t know, Mary, my head’s all confused, and I can’t think straight. I know what I did was wrong, I know.. but.. shit, I can’t cry again today." You start gulping, blinking fast, and she takes your hands in hers.

"Calm down. Calm down. I’m here."

"Are you judging me? You’re judging me."

"No I… oh, I can’t. I’m your friend, but, but you can’t do this to Richard. What is it about that guy?"

You stutter and struggle with your words, trying to explain it to her, while she shakes her head and tries to convince you Oakley is messing with your head, and reminds you of your younger days, and that’s everything. Richard is a steady man, he is something you should strive for, and he loves you. And you know all that.

"Well, fuck, Lydia, what can I say? The sex can’t be that good."

"Oh it fucking can. You have no idea."

She smiles.

"What is it?"

"He… I can’t even explain it. I respond to him on a tantric level, my skin is on fire each time he touches me, exactly like before. It doesn’t go away. It settles down, but when it does, it settles into a loving peace. And he drives me crazy. I never yell that much with Richard. He.. always appeases me, talks to me like I’m a toddler, thinking that’s what I need. But Oakley… he growls at me, and I always know that.. when we were fighting… I knew we were fighting _for_ our relationship. And we would scream at each other for the smallest things. There was… I remember.. One time I went ballistic when he reorganised my cd collection, stuffing boxes into completely wrong places. I was so mad, I wanted to pluck his eyes out… ten minutes later, he starts making faces and I laugh so much my stomach hurts. And.. and we have sex. By the time I woke up, all of my cd’s were in the places I wanted them to be, and he was off to his lectures… I don’t have that with Richard. “

Your finger circles the rim of your cup as you reminisce.

She smiles at you, her arms folded on her chest.

"Oh honey. What I remember… is that it took you a year and a half of Richard’s attention to calm you down. Oakley messed you up."

"No, I left him. I messed him up."

"So… what.. what do you want to do?"

"I’ll marry Richard. I will." You say.

"But… I need this. Listen, I actually wanted to ask you for a favour."

She looks at you suspiciously.

"Umm… I’ll tell Richard I’m sleeping at your place tomorrow night. I need you to back me up on that."

She shakes her head.

"Mary, Mary.. please, please, please? I really need this."

She sighs.

"What are you going to do?"

"I’m going to a party. With Oakley."

"What party?"

"It doesn’t matter."

"Can I come?"

"Haha.. no. What are you, my chaperone?"

"It seems like you may need one. You’re acting like you’re 16 years old, lying to your parents."

You laugh.

"I know… I’m sorry. Please, do this for me. I’ll owe you one. Please. I need you.."

She weighs this over for couple of minutes, before nodding.

"Fine. But this is it. You have to get your shit together. And soon."

"Thank you!" You lean over the table and hug her, accidentally spilling your tea.

"Shit!"

You both laugh as you continue to tell her everything you did with Oakley, giddy like a lovestruck teenager.

The day slows to a quiet, and you go to sleep, excited about tomorrow.   
When you wake up and have your coffee, you start to get nervous. It’s a student party… what will you wear? Surely not one of your grown up dresses you wore out to Richard’s business dinners.

You open your closet, staring at your clothes, rolling your eyes. You tap your foot against the floor before turning back and grabbing your wallet. Running down to the store, you buy yourself a pack of cigarettes and quickly return home, staring at your stereo. You smile, and fumble through your drawers, retrieving a Black Keys’ El Camino album. You light a cigarette and start dancing around, making the dumbest moves you could think of, dancing into your walk in closet and pretending shirt hangers were your partners.   
And then you pull out your pencil skirt, checking the length of it, hopping back to the room to grab a pair of scissors. Putting it on, you chop a part of it, taking it off and cutting into into half. So you can dance.

You jump on your bed and smoke some more, dancing like a child.   
"Aah!" You shriek, running to the closet and pulling out your ancient, favourite T-shirt, the dark grey one, depicting a faded pop art image of Oscar Wilde in drag. You grin at it, greeting it like an old friend.

To contrast things up, you pull out your lingerie in a rich, japanese red colour, thinking how it will do wonders clashed against your clothes.   
You take a bath and drink your most expensive wine Richard saves for dinners, listening to music and smoking. You shave your skin into smoothness, scenting your hair.   
You prance around the house, eating, going from light drunkenness to sobering up again, as you clear your mind off all the negative thoughts.

In the afternoon, your phone rings.

"Hey beautiful!"

Oakley’s voice greets you, and you yell back into the speaker.

"Oakley, my tart little pumpkin!"

He laughs.

"In a good mood today?"

"Oh yes, yes, yes!"

"Glad to hear it. Thought I was going to have to use my powers of seduction to make you come with me!"

"But I always come at the same time as you!"

He laughs, and you grin, revelling in the sound of his laughter.

"Listen, you have to come earlier. I’m making you something. We will eat before-"

"You’re _cooking_?! You never cook!”

"I have my one dish!"

"Oh god. Not the ‘Oakley’s Pie-"

"-of Cheesy Wonderland’ , yes. It’s my greatest hit!"

"It’s your only hit, you idiot! And it’s not even a pie…"

"It’s a pie in my world. And you love it."

"Yes, when it’s 5PM, when my hangover starts to wear off and I’d eat a fucking brick over how hungry I am."

"Don’t trash my pie, Lydia!"

You laugh.

"Oh, okay. I’ll eat it."  
"And I have an extra surprise meal for you!"

"Are you sure I’ll be able to eat it after-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh. You’ll eat it. Be here at 6PM or die trying!"

He hangs up on you. You laugh, throwing your head back, before clapping your hands and relaxing in your garden.

But it was a long wait.. finally, you decide you’ll go immediately. You put on your lingerie, excited about his reaction, and your clothes. The skirt was just the proper length of almost too short, and the tight T-shirt supposedly brought attention to your breasts, only to have the viewer bedazzled by Oscar Wilde’s disdainful gaze in a Warhol-y can-can dress. You knew what to do next: to drag out your red Chuck Taylors and tie them up with a gigantic grin on your face. Yes, now you’re ready to go to him.   
You take a cab, pretending you don’t own a car, and press the little buzzer. He answers.

"Yes?"

You start panting heavily into the speaker, whimpering and moaning, and you hear him laughing just as you catch the two teenage boys passing by you on the street, gawking. The doors buzz open, and you open them with your foot, taking the hem of your shirt and lifting it up, quickly flashing them. Their mouths drop open as you enter, laughing and running up the stairs. The doors to his apartment are unlocked, and you run in, finding him in the kitchen. His eyes widen as he soaks your entire appearance.  
"Lyd, that shirt, Jesus, I remember that shirt!"

"I still have it!"

You jump on him, kissing him.

"You’re beautiful. What did Richard say?"

You roll your eyes.

"I’m twenty seconds here and you have to mention him?"

"Well, I’m wonder-"

"Shhhhhhh. No Richard. I don’t know anyone with that name." You press a finger against his lips.

He gives it up and kisses you, sighing.

"You’re early."

"I couldn’t wait anymore, I had to see you."

You continue kissing him, closing your eyes and enjoying the dedication of the moist touch, the relaxation into being just where you want to be, right here, with him. It’s a dot in time where the puzzle of space fall into place, one of those perfect moments Sartre’s Anny was talking about.   
"Oh shit!" He suddenly utters and turns around, leaning to look in the oven. "Whew, it’s okay. I mustn’t burn this perfection."

"Wouldn’t be the first time…"

He throws a look at you.

"This is why I said 6. Now you’re going to provoke me, and I’ll burn my perfect pie and you’ll laugh at me, and I just wanted to do something nice for you."   
"Aww, baby, no, no, come here.." You chuckle as you wrap your hands around him again, kissing the pout off his face.   
"I won’t laugh, I swear. Let me see how’s it-"

"NO!" He yells, blocking your view. "Your hands are unholy, it will taste like mockery if you touch it!" You laugh as he lifts you up a little and places you on the table.

"Sit there and don’t move."

He looks down to your thighs, inhaling sharply.

"Did you cut this? I like your skirt."

"Do you?" You wrap your feet around his waist as he bites his lip. "I did. It was too long. Watch the oven, Oakley."   
He opens his mouth and quickly turns around to check the baking. You take out your Camels and light one up. Hearing the click of the lighter, he looks at you.

"Who did you blow to get that one?"   
You almost snort.  
"I actually bought it."

He smiles and opens the oven. Immediately a strong, salty smell enters your nostrils, and after all that wine at home, eating something so full of calories and guilty pleasure seemed like a heavenly idea.

"Almost done. The crust is there, the way you like it."

"Aww. My baby boy even makes the crust for me. Come here." You beckon him with a grin on your face and kiss him again, your heart welling up.   
"I’d make everything crust for you."   
You laugh against his face as he flashes you his huge grin.   
"You’re… you’re very happy today. Any happy pills I should know about?"  
"Just a little wine. And a bath, and shaving. And some music. And dancing around the house all day."

"Shaving.." He repeats to himself.  
"What? When have I not shaved?"

"Well, there was that phase of supporting natural look.."

"Oh. Wow. I almost forgot. Yeah… well, it was a good cause. But I am a coward. Why didn’t you tell me you minded it?"

"You would rip off my head if I told you that. And I didn’t… "

"Liar." You kiss him. He breaks the kiss.

"No, really, I didn’t care. It was like sleeping with a tribal wildling."

Your jaw slacks open, you punch him.

"Oakley!"

He laughs.  
"I’d love you any way you wanted me!" He justifies himself, but… the words reverberate in you. You know he’s telling the truth, so you look down to the floor, frowning.  
"Hey.. hey, what did I say?" He lifts your chin. You shake your head.

"Nothing, nothing…"

"I love you." He suddenly says, his eyes boring into your soul, and you feel like someone crushed your spine, slouching and feeling all of your muscles relaxing. He smiles and presses his lips against yours. You let yourself mouth silently _I love you too_ , feeling him breathe in the unspoken confession and seal it with a kiss which sears your skin and connects your bodies in a vacuumed embrace. You trace a way across his tight jaw to the artery on his neck, the tangible heart beats pumping through your mouth.   
"Oakley?"

"Mmm… yes?"

"…Your pie is burning."

"Fuck!" He jumps off as you laugh and runs to the oven, grabbing mittens and pulling the dish out, letting it fall on the top of the stove.   
"It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just a bit!"   
You jump off the table and go to his room, to find some music – when you see your tear-stained, ink covered pillow on his bed. You frown, before shaking your head.  
"You haven’t changed your sheets?" You yell out to him. "I can’t sleep on your dirty bed!"

You go back to the kitchen, where he is preparing your little dinner, cutting neat pieces of yellow gooey pie and placing them onto plates.   
"No. They smell like you."

You frown.

"But you’ll get my stench on them today, why… did you leave the pillow there?"

"You… you’re sleeping here?" His eyebrows lift up.  
"Of course I am! But-"

"I can’t wash Rilke off that. It’s a work of art."

You smile at him.   
"You’re a fool."

He squints at you.

"I most definitely am."   
You can feel him going into serious mode, for the conversation you desperately want to avoid, so you walk over to the table.  
"Feed me, peasant! I am hungry!" You take your fork and knife and start banging them on the table. He shakes his head at you, knowing what you’re doing, but, thank goodness, he gives it up and serves you dinner.   
"So you’re sleeping here?"

"Yes, a friend of mine… well, if the world asks, I am sleeping at her place, it’s a girls’ night out."

"Ooh, I better get my good dress on, then."

You chuckle, waiting for him to sit down. You purse your lips, cutting out a tidbit and pushing it into your mouth, chewing. He stares intently at you, while you take your time, putting another bit in, feeling hungry. The taste takes you back, back, and you have to stop your mind from wandering there.   
"…I love it." You speak, and his face breaks into a shiny grin.

"Success! Eat, eat, we’re drinking tonight." He quickly replies, shoving large pieces inside his mouth and looking at you, his eyes smiling. After you were almost finished, he yanks the plate from you.

"What the fuck Oakley! I wasn’t finished!"   
"The dessert! You need room for the dessert! Close your eyes."

You sigh as you cover your eyes with your hands, hearing him open the refrigerator, the shuffling of plates, knives, and slowly, he puts it in front of you. You remove your hands to see the perfect triangle piece of a delicious looking bright purple cake.  
”[Violet dream](http://cdn.coolinarika.net/image/violet-dream-torta-a3ea1d4fa53912f88d338146fd3d243e_view_l.jpg?v=10)! Oakley, Violet dream! ! It’s my favourite.” You shriek, clapping your hands. He laughs.

"I know, Lydia." Just as you were about to reach for your tea spoon, he shoves his fingers inside the mousse, making you gasp and open your mouth.  
"What…" You don’t even finish when he scoops up a purple mash and brings it closer to your mouth. You throw him a mad look.   
"Eat it. It’s your favourite."

"You’re cruel…" You mumble, shaking your head, and he smirks. Biting your lower lip, you inch closer to his hand and lick it, slowly wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking in the soft blueberry texture. He purses his lips as you moan lightly. He pulls his hand out and proceeds to take another piece, nudging your mouth with it. You eat it, rising up from your chair and pushing him down in it, sitting on him and scooping up some with your own fingers, making him eat it.   
You can feel how the tasty act works on you, the measured sweetness of taste fusing with hotness, and you kiss him, sharing the last sticky bit with his tongue, moving to straddle him, your skirt sliding up as you widen your legs and softly grind on him. He moans.   
"It is… a good cake."

You chuckle, not stopping grinding, feeling yourself getting turned on by the hardening in his slacks.   
"I was half expecting you to strip and offer me your erection as the dessert."

He chortles.

"What a dirty mind you have… oh why didn’t I think of that? Mmm… but I didn’t get mine."

"You ate half of my piece.."

"Not that.." He shakes his head as he rises up, holding your thighs, and lowers you on the edge of the table, reaching behind you to push away the plates and lay you down. On the farther edge, a plate falls down and breaks, and you laugh as he lowers his head down, lifting up your skirt completely and cups your mound.

"Oooh… now that colour.. Uhh, a Red Dream cake for me? You’re too kind.." He looks at you, talking about the colour of your underwear, and you chortle. He proceeds to take them off you, placing them on the chair behind him.  
Spreading your legs wide open he gives your slit a single wet lick, and you exhale loudly, whimpering when he begins sucking your clit hard, not giving you a respite. His lips encradle the whole area as he flickers his tongue fast over it, looking up at you.   
"Fuck, Oakley…" You moan, lifting on your elbows to look at what he’s doing to you. His tongue begins travelling down, rolling lazily around your entrance, dipping in to scoop your wetness and bringing it back to your needy clit, almost biting down on it, the intense pressure making your back arch as you press against his lips, bucking your hips wildly. You can see the stains of wetness and saliva on his mouth and chin as he separates to lick his lips and drive a finger inside you, circling and curling it slowly upwards. You frown, gasping, gritting your teeth.   
"You’re delicious.." He purrs, returning his lips to suckle at your clit, pointing his finger toward his tongue.   
He places his other hand on your stomach, holding you still as his long, slim fingers traces patterns inside you, the knuckle rubbing your entrance, the tongue pressing down on your nub as he moans. Your stomach undulates underneath his palm, muscles straining to instinctively get more movement. He growls against your soaked flesh, and you shriek at the sound, laughing.  
"Yes, yes, Oakley, baby yes…" You mutter, feeling the sparkles gather inside you, his finger drawing them near, licks them against your clit, and you start coming, a shooting thrill splashing down his finger, tightening it, and he flinches, dragging it out, giving your now over-sensitive bud a final squeeze, before licking his finger, and stares down at his handiwork.  
You lie on the table, breathing heavily, riding out the high, closing your eyes. And you feel his tongue return to you, lapping at the remnants of your wetness, licking you clean. You smile, biting your lip.  
He leans over you, kissing your lips, and you feel your own taste on his lips, still radiating heat. You reach your hand down to his hardness, gripping it through his slacks. He catches your hand.  
"We have to go soon."

"…Must we? Why not just stay here.. and make love all night?"

He moans against your lips.  
"We’re going to the party. You have to drink Richard out of your system."

You scoff at the name, but are too relaxed to reprimand him.  
"Why don’t you thrust inside me and fuck him out of my system?"

He groans, gritting his jaw as he looks to the ceiling.   
"Don’t say things like that, I’m hard…"

You bite your lip and give him your innocent look.  
"That’s the point, lover.."  
You slowly push the hem of his slacks down, freeing his cock, and guide it to your sex, rubbing the head around. He breathes heavily, lowering his forehead to yours.   
"Come on.. You can even tie me up. You don’t think I’m feeling it? How you’re mad at me.. your playful little dominating streak is covering your body like a cobweb… "  
His nostrils flare as you rub the head of his dick around your entrance, covering it with your wetness. You push it inside slowly and he groans.  
"Give it to me, Oakley. Punish me. I’ve been so, so naughty…"  
You buck your hips to take him deeper inside and he grunts, separating from you. You whine.  
"Later, Lydia. Later. Stop teasing… what is this newfound kinkiness?"

You shrug, licking your lips at him. He purses his.  
"I did… have a fantasy."

"Pray tell…"

He chuckles.

"I’ll tell you later. I need a shower."

"Can I join you?" You smirk.  
"No way. Cool off."  
You hop off the table, taking your knickers and putting them on, adjusting your skirt, and combing your fingers through your hair.

"You’re not going to pout now, are you?" He says, eyeing you carefully. You don’t want to, but there is a tiny little feeling inside you of being scorned.  
"No." You say, not looking at him, folding your arms over your chest. "You only rejected me. No reason to pout at all."

"Oh come on" He puts his hands on your shoulders. "I really want us to go there. You know I desire you. Look at me." You lift your eyes to his.  
"But I want you…" You suddenly mewl. He smiles.

"I want you too, beautiful. And I will have you tonight. But, we’re going to this party. You’re going to love it. And then we’ll get back here, and we’ll make love until we faint."   
You roll your eyes, fighting a smile, but he chuckles and leans over to kiss you.

"I know. I’m sorry for being pushy, Oakley."

"I love how pushy you are, Lydia."

"Go, go, go take your damned shower!" You separate, smiling.

"Yes, my love."


	7. Chapter 7

You could hear the water running and had half a mind to strip and join him – knowing it'd take just a couple more minutes of persuading, there was no way he could really resist you. There was something, a moment back there, where you actually felt him inhaling as if he's going to inflate – when you mentioned _dominating._ You smile to yourself, you knew he had to go there eventually, it's one of the ways the angry arousal worked. He was mad at you, rightfully mad at you, but he also wanted you. If you did a little sex calculation, it equalled _punishing_ you for doing that to him.  
And oh my, what a sweet, dirty punishment it would be. You never tried it before, you two would always paw at each other like frantic animals, anything occurring would be a result of a spontaneous movement, but this... you licked your lips at the thought, thinking what was his fantasy? Perhaps he would tie you up, or spank you, or tease you... _good god,_ you were hoping he would tease you, making you pay for placing him in this position.   
He exited the bathroom, the towel wrapped around his hips snuggly. The erection was unfortunately gone, but the bulge presented never faded away, that much you knew. You stare at his half wet body as he dries his curls with a towel, walking across the hallway to his room.  
You take to picking up the broken plate from the floor, and placing the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, while observing his walking back and forth.  
He indeed was bigger than before, the shoulder and arm muscles more defined and prominent, fluctuating beneath his skin as he dried his hair... it was mesmerizing. You could feel yourself igniting... oh the curve of his terrycloth clad arse was deliciously prominent. He scratched his stomach , thinking about something, and you carefully noted the specks of water glistening down to his tummy hair, changing their paths as they descended beneath the towel. The pangs of hotness burned through you, steering between all of your internal organs, shimmering through your nipples, plummeting down to your sex, making you feel as if you sat down in a bowl of boiling water; the remnants of heat slithering around your ankles, sparkling through your calves... even your throat, even your lungs were overcharged and electrically greedy. Your stomach eager, you wanted to bite him, taste his sinful sinew, draw blood and moans out of his taut chest, you wanted to rub your entire craving body against his tight, wet one. You wanted to swallow the whole length of his strained, rock-hard cock with your ravenous, needy cunt.  
He raised his eyes to look at you, smiling innocently, blissfully unaware of the extent of your current arousal. Blinking a couple of times, he thought of something and turned to walk into his room. You inhaled deeply, closing the dishwasher with your foot and following him.  
He stood in front of his open closet, taking out a T-shirt. You gritted your teeth and placed your hands on his shoulders, closing your eyes and taking a long lick from the middle of his spine to the nape of his neck. He lightly chuckled, surprised.  
"I'll take the black shirt, everybody will probably spill their drin- oooh..."

He stuttered as you bit the skin of his neck, playing the hunger in your jaw on the delicate skin a bit too roughly. Your fingers dug into his muscles, before you slid your hands around his chest, pressing yourself against his back tightly.  
"Ow! Lydia, what are you..."  
You frowned, mumbling.  
"What?"

"Fuck me, Oakley." You gasped, feeling hot tears of frustration slowly press on your eyelids.  
"Oh god, please fuck me... I'm so..." He turned around, staring at you, as you frowned, your voice shuddering with the fuming arousal inside you, licking your lips. You pushed against him again, rubbing your face on his chest.  
"...I need you... goddamn it, I'm so obliviously horny right now.."

"What happened while I was in the bathroom?" He chortled, although you could feel his heart beats increasing.  
"I will eat you alive" You mumbled, lapping at his wet skin, your hands reaching behind to grab his buttocks firmly.

He took you by the shoulders, to look at your face, which you knew was completely contorted with desire. He squinted.  
"I want to stay here and lick your entire body, I want to... I want you to fuck me until I can't move anymore, any way you want to... the only way for me to go to that party is to shove your cock inside me right now and make me scream with pleasure... I can't walk like this, Oakley. I can't talk or think of anything else but your wet skin... good god, what did you shower with?"

He smirked and tightened his jaw, his eyelids dropping half-down while he listened to you, unmistakeably getting turned on.  
"Lydia..." He shook his head lightly. "Must you..."  
You kissed him, a strangled moan travelling out at the taste. You opened your mouth almost completely, as if you were trying to swallow his entire lips, before moving down to sate your burning tongue on the strain of his Adam's apple. He grunted softly.  
"No, no, let's go... later..."

You groaned, angry, and shoved him against the side of the closet, the wood bobbing lightly and giving resistance, as he gasped, surprised, frowning at you.  
"What the..." His lips twitched with a smile. You kiss him again, rubbing your overly clothed body against his, reaching your hand down to yank the towel off him, revealing a hardened member.  
You purse your lips, smirking, and darting your tongue out to lick his jaw. His hands cup your arse, at last, squeezing tightly. You moan exasperatedly, the constriction of the lace on your sex too much. He slides your skirt up and pushes his fingers under the side of your knickers to test your wetness, but you groan, your mind dizzy.  
"Just fuck me!" You spit out, breathing loudly. He answers with a moan, turning you both around and slamming your back against the closet, while you wrap a leg around him, already panting. He yanks your underwear to the side, and, lifting you up, shoves himself inside you. You scream with the pain of sudden intrusion and the ungodly relief of finally having his cock thrusting in lustfully.  
He grunts.

"Fuck, Lydia, you're scorching..."  
"I told you so!" You yell out, biting down on his shoulder while he increases his rough thrusts, but you grit your teeth, and pant, and mewl at the sizzling friction, wanting even more, deeper, harder.  
Your fingers slide down the strained muscles of his arms as he quickens his pace, frantically slamming himself against your welcoming, sopping insides.  
It doesn't last long, the spine-breaking orgasm bursts inside you, thrashing amongst your muscles and your womb, violently flinching and clenching your ravaged sex, robbing his erection of its strength and come, and he spills himself inside you, muffling your scream with a groaned, weakened kiss, as his muscles lose their ability to hold you up, and you slide down to your shaky feet, holding him closely against you.  
Your breathing slowly evens out, and you quickly slide a hand down to your sated vagina, to prevent your orgasm from staining your only underwear. You slip out from under him, walking to the bathroom to wipe yourself.  
Looking in the mirror, you see your makeup is smeared from rubbing your face on his wet skin, and you wash your hands, your eyes, your sweaty neck. Breathing in, you return to the room, as he turns to you, shaking his head.  
"You are insolent."

You walk to him and kiss him.  
"And you are perfect, Oakley. Don't be mad at me..."

"You were always such a brat."

"Oh please, you'd paw at me like a Hornby's teenager every time we'd meet in a hallway." You caress his face, and he grins.  
"Yes, yes I did."  
"...And I loved when you did that, I loved it."

"But you were always telling me to get off.."

"Well, because we were in public spaces. But I couldn't wait to feel your hands on me again, sliding inside and squeezing and clawing at my skin.... fuck, I can't get turned on again."

"I honestly thought you'd get sick of me... it turned you on that much?"

"Oh yes... fuck-" You say as he slides your shirt up, cupping your breasts, letting out a satisfied moan.  
"I'll make sure to remember that... Jesus, you're so horny today, Lyd.. I almost regret having to go to the party.."

"Hah.. I knew I shouldn't have admitted that." You separate, sighing. "I promised. We'll go."  
You pull your shirt down. "I need to fix my makeup." You say, walking unsteadily to the kitchen to retrieve your bag.  
He was dressed by the time you were ready, with tight, light blue jeans which did wonders to his thighs and arse, and a simple black shirt. You pursed your lips, not wanting to voice your thoughts, deciding to just kiss him.  
"Let me just get my wallet-"

"No, no, I'm paying for everything."

"Come on."

"Please, Oakley, I have an insane amount of money. Your paycheck's not even due." You say, remembering Richard and his ungodly salary. "Consider yourself my whore for the evening."

He grins at you, but still gets his phone and wallet, and, wrapping his arm around your waist, locks the door.  
It wasn't a long drive down town, and you found yourself entering a bar, with a stage and a slow but steady increasing number of young people jammed inside. You look around, noticing familiar faces here and there, settling at the bar to order drinks. It had two levels, with one of those iron ladders leading up to the more secluded area.  
Stage was empty, with a microphone and a screen waiting for the karaoke to start.  
"College bars sure have changed." You say, sipping on your beer.  
"It's a mix of everything, or so I've been told."

"By _Yvonne_?" You screw up your voice pronouncing it, and he laughs.  
"Yes, and Charlotte."  
"So, they're together. Captain Fantastic."  
"My, my, you seem a bit jealous.."

"More like annoyed. God I love this stools, they're wooden and sturdy and I love them" You mumble, suddenly noticing everything around you.

PJ Harvey's Wicked Tongue starts playing and you "aaah" at the song.  
"Oh this is good music!"  
"Yeah, it is."  
Two screaming girls run past you, jumping in arms of the little group of college boys.  
"I'll be needing more than beer." You roll your eyes, ordering a shot of scotch.  
"M-hm. Beer is the chaser." He says, clinking his bottle against yours. You look around again, noticing some of your own students. Nobody seemed to notice you though, with your hair down and messy, with your eyeliner and your skirt and your Chuck Taylors. You smile to yourself, observing the way people jumped to the song, downed their drinks, the overall noise increasing by the minute. Another group of posh-looking girls barge in, joining their friends.  
"What is it?" He asks, seeing you pursing your lips.  
"Oh, I just remember when we used to sit in a group of your friends. Well, rarely."

"Ah, after I convinced you they were not going to mock you or tell anyone."  
"Well, my job depended on it, you know?"

"I know. It seems to be the a recurrent situation with us, having to hide as much."

"Maybe it's like that for a reason, Oakley..." You say above the rim of your bottle.  
"Forbidden fruit tastes sweeter for a reason. The society couldn't handle the sheer perfection."  
You laugh.  
"You're imagining things. It was just forbidden. Still is. Period."  
"Well, it seemed like that to me..." He says, looking to the floor. You smile, soaking up his entire slouched appearance, the boy you loved so much. Perhaps he was right. The sheer perfection is too much. Too much to survive, to live out longer than this. Your mind goes to the inevitability of the conversation you'll have to have tomorrow morning, and you can feel your stomach turn at the thought. _Not now, Lydia. Not now. Enjoy. Forget. You'll deal with it in the morning._  
You down your bottle of beer with a frown, waiting for the mellowing effect to kick in.  
"Let's play a game." He suddenly says, a conspicuous look in his eyes.  
"What game?" You say, afraid.  
"We ask each other a question, which we must reply to. If we don't want to, we have to down a shot."

You smile, already knowing you'll be drinking a lot, so you order an entire bottle of scotch. __  
"Okay.... you wicked little shit."  
He laughs.  
"You go first."

You tap your finger on your lip, thinking.  
"Did you know I was teaching at this university?"

"No... well, not when I applied. No, really, I didn't! I got accepted here and at another one.. but, after a little research... I got my answer."  
"Hmm... and have you planned seducing me?"  
"It's not your turn, Lydia. Now me. How did you and Richard meet?"

You roll your eyes.  
"Oh god... okay. I have a friend, Mary, and he is a friend of her husband. I used to go out with her, and well, she set me up with him. My turn! Have you planned seducing me?"

"Yes. Did you like him immediately?"

You chuckle, pouring yourself a shot.  
"Oh come on!" He protests, but you shake your head, downing a shot, cringing.  
"Umm... whom have you been dating after me?"

He smiles.  
"Several girls-"

"Several?"  
"Hah.. yes, several. Annie, among others."

"Annie?!" You spew out. She was his classmate, constantly asking him out, now knowing you two were together. Once you even witnessed the scene, when he was waiting for you after class, and she walked to him, inviting him for a party, apologising to you when she realised you were listening. The thing is, Annie was so beautiful and so smart you were beyond jealous around her, thinking he'll dump the older chick in a heart beat for someone so much more suitable for him.  
"Yes, Annie. But.. it didn't work out. None of it worked out. None of them were you."

You bite your lip, feeling pain from looking at him.

"Oakley..."  
"My turn! When did you move in with him?"

"Ah. Two and a half years ago."  
"And when did you forget about me?"

"I never forgot about you, Oakley. And those are two questions. Now I get to ask two."

He takes a sip of beer, smacking his lips.  
"First: Do you really think I... lost my passion, as you said to me? And... What was your fantasy?" You say, grinning, trying to ease the atmosphere with your second ask.  
"I... did. But, I was mad. I wanted to say you buried it somewhere. Seeing how wonderfully _passionate_ you are today, I'd say its resurfacing." He says smugly. "Which brings me to the second question... I thought about tying you up, getting you hot and bothered using whatever means available to me, and making you swear you'll leave him, literally having you pick up your phone as I enter you and in your shaky, strained voice saying to him you hate him and are dumping him for me, insulting him in the most horrible ways imaginable.. making, khm, making you come like that, screaming like you do. Into the speaker. To him"  
Your face was lighting up, your grin widening until you were laughing, observing his expression which told you he repeated this so many times in his head, until it became a constant thought.  
"You're crazy."  
You say, shaking your head, biting your lip to hide the tinge of arousal which clicked through you at the thought. He calculates your reaction, squinting, and you clear your throat, drinking some more.  
"Your turn" You quickly say.  
"But you don't get it. You'd be... you'd be shaking, you'd be so wet and sensitive you would cry, and beg, mmm... your sweet voice begging me to _fuck you..._ whew." He says, as you roll your eyes, chuckling.

"Oh god, the... mmm... I would lick your entire skin-"

"Oakley, I get it." You interrupt, shifting in your chair, trying to chase away the returning arousal.  
"You were quite eager to know what the fantasy was, why are you shutting me up? Am I.. am I making you uncomfortable in a public space, perhaps?" He purrs, leaning forward to place his hands on your thighs, hovering above your lips.  
"No, it's just your turn to ask.. ask the uh, the question.."  
You stare at his lips ghosting above yours, not sure if he'll kiss you or not. Not sure if yours will wrap around his, either, so you just continue the tiny dance of breathing each other at an inch length, your lips slightly quivering, or twitching almost into a smile... He bites your lower lip and you inhale sharply, a wall of heat shuddering through you. He tastes of scotch and tobacco and sex, and his tongue is greedy, calculative, as are his hands, now sliding up below the hem of your skirt, and just as his thumbs reached your knickers, you separate, pushing them off.  
"...The students, Oakley." You croak, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He smirks into a devilish expression, the gorgeous features of his face playfully teasing you to kiss him again.  
"M-hm. So... my question is... how big is Richard's cock?"

Your jaw drops down, eyes widening.

"Oh come on!!" You yell, reaching for the bottle of scotch, but he grabs it before you, placing it behind his back. You get off your chair, trying to reach for it, but he keeps moving it constantly, holding in high in the air, while you both laugh.

"Give me the bottle, it's the rules!"  
"Answer me!"  
"Give me fucking bottle, Oakley!"  
"You have to answer me!"

"I'm not going to, I have a right to take a shot instead!"  
You give up, sighing, knowing he is not going to let this slide.  
"It's.. a perfectly satisfying size." You say, rubbing your forehead, not believing you are discussing it with this little self-righteous brat.

"Bigger than mine?"

"Na-ah. That's a second question. Did you fantasize about fucking Yvonne?"

He licks his lips, pouring himself a shot. You narrow your eyes, huffing disdainfully at him.  
"Bigger than mine?" He repeats as soon as he slammed his shot glass down. You lick your lips, taking a shot yourself, and smirking.  
"Did you fantasize about fucking Yvonne?" You say again, raising your eyebrow.

"Yes. Bigger than mine?"  
You laugh, feeling woozy as you lean your head backwards.  
"No. What was the fantasy?"

He grins widely.  
"Oh please, Oakley, it doesn't mean shit, don't be such a baboon."  
"If I recall correctly, you once drunkenly told me that nobody before me could ever reach the deeper spot, and that I stretch you in such-"

"Shhhhhhhh" You say, covering his mouth with your palm. "No cock talk now. Public space." He licks your palm and you pull your hand back, wiping it against his jeans.  
"Now. What was the Yvonne fantasy?"

He sighs, looking to the side.  
"It so doesn't matter, Lydia. It was just a ... you have them too, come on."

"I didn't say I don't. But you have to tell me yours."

"Fine. It's her breasts. I thought about doing it to her breasts."  
You laugh as he slightly blushes, banging your hand on the table.  
"Oh, how wonderfully disgusting."  
"Yes, now kiss my disgusting face..." He says, and you get off your chair, leaning on him and kissing him passionately.

"My turn." He says, and you throw your head back to exaggerate the roll of your eyes, but as you lean forward, your eyes fly over the people leaning on the fence of the upper level of the bar, and you notice Charlotte there, staring at you. You smile at Oakley, squeezing between his legs more tightly and just before you kiss him, you whisper: "Grope me... Now."  
And he frowns shortly at you, interrupted by a kiss; he obeys, sliding his large palms to pull you against himself. You separate, and look up: she wasn't there anymore. You chuckle before sitting back on your own stool, starting to feel very unstable on your legs. You were properly drunk now.  
"What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing."

"I thought we were in a public space."  
"I just felt like it! Ask your question!"

He smirks at you.  
"What did you like about my fantasy?"  
"Well, I like how you were shallow and pornographic about it, with her breasts and all, and not very engaged-"

"Not that fantasy, Lydia." He says and you chuckle, licking your lips, and feeling little sparkles of arousal twitching your sex at the thought of it.  
"Okay. Uh... I liked... the _hot and bothered by any means available_ part."  
He slips from his chair, wedging himself between your legs and suddenly biting your earlobe. You gasp.  
"What the... fuck!" 

He quickly slides a hand under your skirt, shielded from view by the bar and his body, and reaches your underwear, as you try to push it off.  
"Oakley,no-"

"Would you like to know what I'd do to you?"

"Okay, but remove-"

"I'd tease you with my tongue... as many times as is necessary for you to almost come, and then I'd slide my finger inside- oooh, Lydia, so wet already? Mmm... " He purrs into your ear just as he slipped a finger under the side of your knickers, and you shuddered, but managed to push his hand off. He kisses you instead.  
"Oakley, please, please stop. You're really making me uncomfortable. Please."

He sits back, giving up.

"Fine, fine... sorry. I'm just really loving how you are today." He smiles, and you wave your hand, just as one of the patrons of the bar announces the karaoke is about to start, and he already has a few first performers. Couple of tipsy boys climb on the stage, as everybody starts whistling and cheering. You smile.  
"I'll be right back" Oakley says, and pushes his way through the crowd towards the toilets. You decide to stand a bit, to assess just how drunk are you, and looking around, you see a student of yours, Tia, an unbelievably shy girl but with a keen, keen mind.  
"Tia!" You yell out, and she looks at you confused for a couple of seconds, before recognising you.  
"Professor!" She walks over, extending a hand.  
"No, call me Lydia, please." You shake her hand, and her eyes are wide at your appearance.  
"Uh... how come.. you're here?"

"I decided to visit this place with a colleague of mine, prof. Brigham."

"Oh!" She is even more surprised.

"But never mind me, what about you? I could've sworn you are too shy to leave the house." You make a joke, and she chuckles, blushing, waving her hand.  
"Oh, some friends dragged me out.."

"Good! You should go out, and have fun."

"I know, but... there's so many people here, and.. I was just on my way to get a drink, but everybody keeps pushing me, getting in line before me.." She shrugs.  
"What are you drinking?"

"Uh.. a Cosmo."

You turn around, whistling and tapping your hand on the bar. The barista walks over to you immediately, considering you're spending money on bigger quantities than other people, and you order her a drink, paying for it, and refusing to take her money.

"Thank you so much, Prof- uhh, Lydia!"  
"Sure thing, sweetie."

"Hello there." You hear Oakley's voice behind you.

"Oh, Oakley, meet Tia, one of the most promising ones in my class."

"Nice to meet you, Tia, I'm Oakley. Now, if Lydia says that, it means a lot. She was teaching me once, you know." He flashes her a grin, and you can see her cheeks reddening at his handshake.  
"Shut up, you're making me sound old!" You punch him, and she laughs.  
"No, no, you are beautiful, professor."

"Stop calling me that!" You playfully reprimand her, although too loosely, considering you're quite tipsy already.  
"I agree with Tia, professor.." Oakley says, wrapping his arms around your waist, and you watch as her eyes follow the movement with shock.

"Tia, honey, if you need anything else, just let me know. Go now, drink, dance!"  
She smiles.

"Okay. Thank you! See you around!" She spins quickly on her heels and disappears in the crowd.  
"Did you have to, Oakley?"

"Yes, I did. It feels good holding you in front of everybody." He murmurs to your ear, and you smile, not raising a finger to remove his hands from you.

"I suppose she is too afraid to utter a word to anyone anyway."

"Now, Charlotte, on the other hand, sits over there looking like her tongue is inflating from not being able to tell anyone."  
"Where?"

"There, the corner. You can look, she's not looking now."

You spot her fidgeting in her chair, pulling the excuse for a dress up and down.  
"Isn't that a shirt she is wearing? If she uncrossed her legs, I could see her cervix."

"Look who's talking.." He teases you.

"It's completely different. I have a T-shirt. My tits are not pouring over the too low cut. It's the _details,_ Oakley, the _balance_ of things."   
He chortles.  
"Whatever you say..." 

The loud yelling of the singers muffles your conversation, and you both laugh at their bravery, and he is pulling you to dance. You swirl around drunkenly, almost falling down, as he pulls you forward to the stage, whistling at the singers and jumping up. You close your eyes, feeling your head dizzy with the pleasant buzz, when someone yanks your hand. Looking down to the table next to you, you see a few of your students yelling. You greet them, smiling at their surprise to see you here, and they make you down two more shots of vodka with them, clapping at you while you bow down, almost falling, and laughing your heart out.  
You mumble to Oakley you are going to the toilet, and you pee for what seems an infinitely long time, banging your elbow against the doors of the stall as you open them. Your reflection is blurry, and you don't remember the conversation with some of the girls there as you push your way through the crowd, hearing your name blasting through the speakers. You think you're hallucinating, but your students wave at you as you hear Oakley's loud voice:  
"Lydia!"  
Looking up, you see him on the stage, beckoning you forward, smiling goofily at you.  
You stand by the stage, realising he's going to sing something, and you push two fingers in your mouth and whistle at him.  
"I'd like to dedicate this masterpiece of a song to a very good friend of mine, Richard Windsor!"  
You shriek, covering your mouth, while he bows down, and everybody cheers at him.  
The song starts, and you immediately know which one it is: Everyday I Love You Less and Less by Kaiser Chiefs.  
Oakley starts singing, changing the lyrics significantly:  
  
 _Everyday you love him less and less_  
It's clear to see that he's become obsessed  
I've got to get this message to the press  
That everyday you love him less and less  
And everyday you love him less and less  
You've got to get this feeling off your chest  
The Doctor says all you needs pills and rest  
Since everyday you love him less and less  
  
You laugh, realising he changed the lyrics to sing to you, thrashing around on the stage, and you love it, you love it so much you start singing along to the changed chorus, jumping in front of the stage, while he leans down to you, yelling into the microphone:  
  
 _And less and less,_  
You know, you feel it in your bones  
You're sick, You're tired of staying in control  
Oh yes, you feel a rat upon a wheel  
You've got to know what's not and what is real  
Oh yes You're stressed, you're sorry you digressed  
Impressed you're dressed to SOS  
 _Oh, and your parents love you_  
Oh, and your fiancee loves you  
  
And you can feel the lyrics blasting through you, you want to mean them, you want to scream them. _  
_He offers you a hand which pulls you onto the stage, where you grab his microphone and start singing:  
  
 _Everyday I love him less and less_  
I can't believe once him and me did sex  
It makes me sick to think of him undressed  
Since everyday I love him less and less  
And everyday I love him less and less  
He's turning into something I detest  
And everybody says that he's a mess  
Since everyday I love him less and less  
 _And less, and less_  
I know, I feel it in my bones  
I'm sick, I'm tired of staying in control  
Oh yes, I feel a rat upon a wheel  
I've got to know what's not and what is real  
Oh yes I'm stressed, I'm sorry I digressed  
Impressed he's dressed to SOS  
Oh, and my parents love me  
Oh, and my fiancee loves me  
  
The lyrics were true at the moment, your entire being was quivering, erasing Oakley, and the audience, you were yelling them, feeling them inside your drunken mind. The synth solo comes on, and Oakley wraps his arms around you – you wrap yours around his neck and kiss him. The cheers and the whistles increase, and you smile against his lips, feeling every single pair of eyes and screaming throats in the place on you two.  
The screaming part of the song comes on, and both of you growl into the mic, making everybody laugh and clap, before the big finish:  
  
 _Oh, they keep photos of me_  
Oh, that's enough love for me  
Oh, and my parents love me  
Oh, and my fiancee loves me  
Oh, they keep photos of me  
Oh, that's enough love for me  
  
You raise your hands up, laughing, as everybody claps, and somebody takes the microphone from you, announcing the next drunken singer. You almost trip and fall coming off the stage, feeling familiar pair of students' hands tapping at you, telling you that was great, it's a great song, do you want another shot? And everything is hazy, you cannot concentrate, so you just keep downing what's offered to you, faces flurrying past you, sounds of laughter and the steaming sweaty air pressing down on your mind.   
Oakley takes you face in his hands:  
"Are you okay?"

"Yes! I love you!" You mumble, falling down on him. The chime of his chuckle surrounds you, and even though the space around you begins constricting – at which time you'd force yourself to open your eyes and concentrate, but you're with Oakley, and his scent means you're safe, there is no need to forcibly sober yourself up – lulling you into a spineless dance across the packed bar.  
"Drink water, silly, come on, you have to."  
"WhateveryousayOakleylove" You mumble, frowning at the hostile taste.  
"How many shots have you had?"

"Oh... a..." You try to think. "Uhh... ten, fifteen?"

He laughs.

"It's too much, Lydia.."

"I needed it... oh thank you!" You jump on him, slobbering all over his mouth. He sits you down on your chair, and makes you drink another glass of water.

"You're too drunk."

"I'm not, I'm not! I'm still at that edge, you know, the edge where it's all oblivious and perfect... I'm not pukey yet.." You make tiny motions with your fingers, looking like an idiot.

"Haha, can you even recognise my face?" _  
_ "I'd be able to see your face even if I was blind, Oakley." You say, leaning backwards, closing your eyes, but he pulls you back.

"You'll fall down!"  
"I'll fall down on your bed, puff! Soft, soft bed..."  
"...and immediately fall asleep."  
"Nonono, I have plans. Plans. We will make love, and I'll cry, I'll cry because it's heaven which I'm banished from.."

"What? What are you saying?"

"Oh my Oakley." You take his face into your hands. "Oh my Oakley, love like this is not of this world... we are inexplicably young, like.. the song, The Smiths, Oakley, _to die by your side is such heavenly way to die_... and you did, you took me out where there's people and there's music and there's life... da...da.. da dum.. _I never never want to go home, because I haven't got one_.."  
"Lydia, what are you talking about?"  
You close your eyes, the song playing through you, every chord clear and you feel like a hurt adolescent with a trembling, loving soul that's been stretched and broken in thousand anxious places. You quietly sing it, feeling the tears pouring out, not hearing his voice anymore, because that's the truth of it, his voice is to dissipate after you send him away tomorrow morning, after you make love and you wait for him to fall asleep so you can weep until the morning, leaving your only loving soul to die next to his, and you'll be left alone in this painful, heart-strangled place of suffocating into survival.  
"...Lydia, Lydia!" He is holding your shoulders, shaking you. "What is wrong with you?"  
You look at him, squinting through your tears, smiling.  
"I love you."

His eyes are wide, and worried, and as they get clearer, so does your mind, taking the ominous wave of chasm a bit farther away from you.  
"I love you too, Lydia. What are you babbling about?"  
You sigh deeply.  
"The Smiths. The band. And how they always bring me to my inner adolescent angst."

He shakes his head.

"Come, let's get some air."  
He pulls your hand, and you feel your shoulders hit and push against stranger bodies, unable to centre yourself.  
A gust of fresh night air washes over you, and you hear the shattering sound of rain. He turns to you with a wide grin, glowing like an angel below the street lamps. You smile, as the curtain of rain glistens just an inch from him, making him look like a dream.  
"It's raining!" He says, smiling.  
"I never liked rain, you know I didn't..."  
"Come on, come on! It'll sober you up! Come with me!" He takes your bag, stuffing his wallet and phone inside, and closing the rain-proof material tightly, before pulling your hand to the drape of light rain, which flows down your face. You shriek, trying to break free, but he grabs you and kisses you.  
"Walk with me."  
"Ugh. Fine. I'm wet as it is."  
He wraps his hand around your waist, and slowly, you raise your head up and let the water wash over you, surrendering. There are couple of people speeding past you, laughing.  
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's raining..." You mewl, and he laughs.  
"I still feel like dancing" He suddenly says, and you walk on, passing the bars, and the restaurants as he begins to dance, jump around, screaming. You laugh as he runs around you. Walking past an expensive bar, you see a silhouette of a woman standing in front, hiding from the rain. Oakley climbs on a car, taking off his shirt and making a fool of himself, but your eyes focus on the woman, recognising her as _Mary._  
"Lydia?" She calls to you. You run to her.  
"Jesus, you're soaked!"  
"I know, I know... Where were you?"

"We went to get a drink, William is getting the car, I'm waiting for him. What are you doing here?"

"I'm a...-"

"You're drunk!"

"Yes, I'm wasted..." You laugh. "I'm walking in the rain to sober up..." You look to Oakley, who is spinning his shirt above his head, twirling around on top of a car.  
"Is... is that Oakley?"

You laugh, realising how he looks right now.  
"Yes, yes it is.." He looks around, searching for you, wiping his large hands on his torso for some reason.

"He is... Jesus. Well built."  
You look at her, seeing she stares at him, her expression softening, as she didn't want to reprimand you, considering you're drunk.  
"Yeah. Yeah, he is. What do you think?"

"Uhh... you both look like you're 20."  
"We most definitely are."  
The sound of rain is increasing, and you can feel the contents of your stomach beginning to turn at the pounding, obnoxious sound.  
He spots you and jumps down, running to you.  
"Hi, I'm Oakley!" He extends a wet hand to Mary, and she smiles, introducing herself.

"Listen, Lydia, you better go, Richard will be here any second.."

"Yes." You mumble incoherently, pulling him behind you.

"Nice to meet you Mary!" He yells back, and she shakes her head.  
You were getting progressively more sick, and you had to take a cab back. You immediately dragged yourself to the bathroom and began a long session of vomiting everything you had the past twenty-four hours, your mind reeling with a short lasting sense of relief, before another wave of sickness. He kept going in and out of the bathroom, bringing you more and more glasses of water to ease everything out, caressing your wet hair as you knelt next to the toilet.

"Here, have some more.."

"No, no more water... oh god..."

"You have to, so you don't vomit in the morning."  
You groan and drink it, emptying yourself completely, after what seemed like two hours. You're beyond drained, and lie down on the cold soothing tiles, when he returns.  
"Oh Lyd, you can't sleep here. Come, let me dry you up a bit." You mewl, trying to make him leave you here, already asleep, but he lifts you up, peeling wet clothes from you, and wiping your body and hair with a towel. You lean on his shoulder.  
"Just let me sleep..."  
"In a second, darling."  
He keeps waking you up until you're completely dry, and then helps you to his room. Oh, the bed felt divinely after all that, you sigh with relaxation. You curl into a ball, starting to feel cold, and trembling, but too sleepy to cover yourself. He returns to the room, joining you on the bed.  
"Hey, hey, come here." He says softly, and the sound of his comforting voice pierces your sleep, your limbs work on their own to pull you closer to his warm body, and you shudder with the contact. Pulling the sheets and a blanket over you, he scoops you inside his embrace, and you sigh at the warmth and security lulling you into a dead sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

The taste, the bitter taste... You smack your lips, trying to swallow the dry collection which replaced your saliva. You open your eyes, focusing the blurry blend of air, walls and furniture.   
You blink.  
The scent on the pillow.  
You stretch your fingers.  
 _Oakley..._  
Oakley's room.  
You roll to the other side, reaching for him, but he is not in the bed. You yawn, trying to get up, but the splitting headache knocks you right back down.  
"Oakley?" You weakly call out, clearing your throat.

"Oakley?"  


He doesn't answer. Gathering strength, you pull yourself up, leaving the warmth of the bed. Your head is throbbing with lack of water, and you stumble your way to the kitchen to appease the great thirst, surprised he's not even there. You walk to the bathroom – no signs of your lover.   
Perplexed by this, you return to the room to lie down some more, since you can't think straight. You take your phone, checking your messages. _Richard: Call me when you wake up._  
Sighing, you dial his number.

"Lydia! Good morning!"

"Hey, what is it?"  
"I didn't want to call you, but I'm on my way to Birmingham, for the conference, and I'm so sorry, but I won't be able to return today-"

"Oh, it's okay.."

"...tomorrow evening, most likely. How are you girls? How was it?"

"Uhh... it's, it's been great. We're making coffee right now, and breakfast."

"Tell her I said 'hey'. See you tomorrow... love you!"

A pause. You swallow.

"Ok, I will. I have to go, she's calling me. See you!"

You hang up, sighing, rubbing your forehead.   
That's something, at least, you'll have a day to spend in painful silence, after you talk with Oakley... if you could only find him now. Turning to look at his pillow again, you notice a paper there:

 _"Out of coffee, ran to the store. Love you"  
_ You smile, inhaling the scent on his pillow, before dragging yourself to take a shower. The water is cold and soothing, and you leave it washing over you, so your thirsty skin can soak up as much as possible. It makes you feel a little better, and you want to dress yourself, since he stripped the wet, dirty clothes from you – but they look awful, so you open his closet with a grin on your face, taking one of his _rarely_ used tight boxers, which look funny on you, and a clean shirt. You try to call him, but the ringtone of his phone blares from the kitchen, so you give up, settling for snooping around his work stuff, reading the notes on the students, his thoughts on this and that, almost like a diary, when you hear the front door opening quietly. Your smile is suddenly washed away, because the moment is approaching.   
He puts the bag in the kitchen and tiptoes to the room, expecting to find you sleeping, flinching when he sees you up.  
"Lyd! You're up! I... wanted to be with you in the bed until you wake up."   
"It's okay..."   
The instinct tells you to hold him and kiss him, but you fight it, knowing the time for that has passed. Instead, he walks over to you, and you hesitantly accept his gentleness.  
"I love looking at my clothes on you..."

You smile, caressing his face.

"Oakley-"

"I bought coffee. Let's go make it, your head must be killing you, beautiful."

He pulls your hand to the kitchen, where he orders you to sit down.

"Oakley, uhh, I wanted to-"

"Take it easy. Drink some coffee first, and then we'll do whatever you wanted to, love." He smiles at you, and continues making it. You sigh, fumbling with your fingers, not wanting to interrupt this soft morning atmosphere.   
"Can you eat?"

"God, no. Not yet."

He gets you a glass of water, which you drink in silence, looking at the floor.

"How are you feeling?"

"Guess."

He chuckles.

"Well, it's not the first time."  
"Yeah... uhh, Oakley, listen, I need to say-"

"No sugar, right?"

You nod.

"There you go. Careful, it's still hot."  
He sits opposite of you, the clanking of the tea spoon against his cup the only sound in the room. He stares at you, his eyes as bright as the summer sky, and as happy. Every lock on his head messy and reminding of his boyish beauty, reminding of the sated mornings you spent together a long, happier time ago. It breaks your heart, and you swallow, painfully averting your eyes.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"No, no, it's my head, it's, uh... you know."

"I know, beautiful."

"Oh please, I look like a dead cat."

"And a beautiful dead cat at that."

You chuckle, which only accentuates the ache. You take a sip of your coffee, wringing your shaking palms around the hot cup.  
"Oakl-"

"I have a surp-"

You both speak at the same time, and he laughs. You don't.

"I go first! I have a surprise for you."

"Oakley, we have to talk." You squeeze out.

"We will, we will, but we can talk while..." He pulls something out of his pocket, and opens his palm to you, revealing a cannabis bud. "... under influence!"

You huff.

"No, really..."

"No, no, come on, it'll take away the headache, and we haven't done it in forever... we'll get high and listen to music and lie in bed all day long. Come on, it'll make you feel divinely! ... And you can say whatever you want to say then."

You shake your head, but he pulls your hand and puts the bud in it.

"Just smell it."

You inhale, and almost moan. He was right, it smelled divinely. It was good, you could tell, even though you haven't done it in years. He stares at you with his pleading eyes, and you know he is not going to give it up.

"Oh okay, we'll do it."

He grins devilishly.

"Good. Is your coffee okay?"

"Yes."  
"I need to take a shower. Put some music on." He walks to you, taking your head in his hands and kissing you eagerly.   
"Wait for me naked." He teases, and you smile.

You bite your lips, drinking the rest of the coffee nervously, not sure was accepting this a good idea, and proceed making a playlist, to distract your mind momentarily.

He comes to you in his slacks, bringing the rolling papers, and sits down to prepare everything. You lie down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the music mixed with the rustling of thin papers.   
He drags himself next to you, leaning against the headboard, and pulls you to lie over him, lighting up the joint, inhaling deeply. A couple of seconds later, the delicious scent fills the room, and you take it from him, closing your eyes as the laden smoke fills your lungs, exhaling slowly. It took only three hits for the tingling wave to wash over you, making you smile.

"Told you it was good." He grins above your head, caressing your face. You let go of your thoughts, and surrender to the music and the closeness of him. The warm heaviness of his large palm rests on your collar bone and he hums along with [Morphine's A Head With Wings](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAgPgi9S3Io).   
"This is how it should be." He suddenly says, and you open your eyes, to see him gazing down at you lovingly.

"I _see_ you, Lydia. I see all of you."

"You're high, Oakley."

He smiles.

"Yes, yes I am... and you're glowing."

You snort into laughter, pulling him down for a kiss.  
"But you know that, right? It's the aura or something... the skin glows"

"M-hm, it's the aura. You look like an angel." You respond.

He grins.

"The fallen one, violently banished to Earth to make you a harlot."  
"Oooh, that's the goal of you as Lucifer? Really?"

"Yeah, I know, not a very hard task."   
You shriek and punch his arm, making him laugh.

"So where are your wings, angel?"

"In my pants. You wanna see them?"   
You laugh loudly, while he pushes you further down the length of the bed, to kneel above you, and starts undressing. You laugh, hitting his torso.

"It doesn't make sense, you tit! You're disgusting! Stop that, ahaha!"   
You push him off and sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his. He plays with your fingers. You speak.

"It's the combination of "n" and "g", which makes the name angel an _angel_."

"What?"

"The letters. Together, and "a" is the halo. Soft on the tongue."

"Hmm... yeah. Hey, it's in the _wings_ , too! N-G..."

"Wow, yes!" You stare at the bed, lost in thought.   
"In the... _Ng, ng.._ " He thinks out loud, opening his mouth and clucking his tongue, trying to think of more words, and you start laughing, catching his tongue between your fingers.   
"The most important organ looks so weird... like a mockery..."

He tries to speak, and you let go.

"It feels like a lump of consciousness in my mouth"   
"That's exactly what it is... You smell so good." You speak, inhaling deeply the scent of the skin below his neck.

"Really?"

"Like... musk, and some dark, wild fruit, and it's masculine and wiry... raw, if you pay attention." You follow the invisible trail of odor reaching down his torso, your nose barely touching the skin.  
The oriental sound of [Le Duc – Touareg](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOCS52WIHtk) just prolongs the contact, making your mind spiral upwards from determining the exact _name_ for the perfume of him.  
"You... the scent of your core is..." You shift down on the bed, pulling his slacks down, while he yelps:  
"What..."  
You almost bury your face in his crotch, making him laugh.

"I don't know... argh!" You groan in frustration, your lips tickling his sex. "I can't name it... but it's there, it's right there... oh why isn't there a name?! Oh Oakley... it's the whiff of sex, spicy and tangy, I love it.." You plaster your lips against his skin.  
"No wonder it makes me hot... " You feel the distant part of your brain sending warmth to your core.  
"It what?" He speaks, his stomach twitching under your chin, muscles of his thighs tightening. You close your eyes and lick the length of his shaft. He groans, intertwining his fingers with your hair.   
"Lyd... do try to explain it..." He teases, and you chortle, rising up to kiss him.   
You are not centered, your mind spasms and widens, and his tongue is making your own feel like a stranger flesh, something that is detached from you, connecting you to him in a primal, evolutionary contact.  
"It's stronger than I thought." You say, sitting back next to him.

"It's this guy from university, I don't know where he gets it..."

"I love it."

You sit in silence, touching each other's skin absent-mindedly. You constantly feel an anonymous, hostile thought poking your mind, and you frown, trying to determine the source of it. Your brain stretches, gaits around the buzzing conundrum... and then you remember. _Richard._ You swallow a lump, closing your eyes.  
"Oakley?"

"Yes?"

"There is a thought I need to speak out... in my pool of thoughts right now..." You say quietly, murmuring almost.

"Pool? What pool? Where?"

"No, _my_ pool.. in my-"

"Pool? You have a pool?"

"What? No, I... I mean, yes, there is a pool in my garden, but-"

"Holy fuck you have a pool?!"

He stares at you wide-eyed. You start shaking your head.

"No, that's not what I meant-"

"Why didn't you tell me you have a pool?"

"What? No, I thought that didn't matter... that's not what I was trying to say."

"I want to swim in the pool!"

You laugh loudly.

"Let's go!"

"No, are you insane?"

"But Lydia I really really want to swim right now!"

"You can't _there_!"

"Come on... where is Richard?"

"He is..." You think about it. "...Out of town, actually..."

"IT'S DESTINY!" He shouts, kneeling next to you. "Come on, come on, when is he coming back?"

You shake your head.   
"No, no, no"

"When is he back?"

"Oakley, no! Tomorrow evening, but we cannot, it's too risky, it's, what, almost 4PM, and all the neighbours are coming back from work, and no!"

His eyes contort into those of a pleading puppy.

"Lydia, but it's perfect! Please, please, let's go, I will die if I don't swim right now!"

"You're high, idiot!"

"But the _water_ , Lydia, the _water_..." He tugs your wrists. "Please, please, take me there, please, I promise we won't stay long!"

You sigh.  
"Oakley... we have to talk. It's serious. We have to talk. Right now."

He looks at you, pouting.   
"Listen to me. You know... you know that I really care about you-"

He puts his hands over his ears and starts singing loudly. Your jaw drops down.

"Oakley, what the fuck! Listen to me!" You try to pull his hands down, but he moves away.

"I'm not listening to you until I'm in the water!"

"Oakley!!!" You scream. He closes his eyes and continues singing. You start laughing, the scene is absolutely ridiculous. You laugh so loudly your stomach starts hurting, and he stares at you, grinning while he sings, still covering his ears.   
You nod your head, and he shuts up, putting his hands down.  
"Fine. Fine. We'll go."

"Woo hoo!" He shouts, tackling you down and kissing you. "I love you!" He says, and you smile against his lips, even though the ache is still burning strong inside you. Delaying the inevitable is beginning to weigh down on you. As you get ready, looking at him gathering his things, you feel like you're stealing the time that is not yours, stealing the body, the breath and the joy that is not yours for enjoying.  
You decide to take a cab, to avoid having his car in the driveway. Plus god knows where you might end up, as half-stoned as you two are.   
The ride is uncomfortable, the serious manner of the driver causing you both to snort and cackle like monkeys, even though you're trying to cover it. You had to wear your T-shirt and the skirt without your underwear, and Oakley keeps trying to push his hand between your thighs. You keep slapping his hand away, and at one point you bite his thumb. He yells loudly, making the driver yelp and reprimand you. You apologise to the poor man, saying you're apparently sharing a cab with a child. He just throws you a mean look through his mirror.  
Handing him a scrunched up pile of money, you exit the cab, carefully looking up and down the street, before pulling Oakley's hand and running to your house.  
It truly was empty, and you throw your bag on the counter, trying to make him follow you to the garden, but he decides to snoop around, picking up a picture of you and Richard in a ski-hut, laughing together.  
You don't stop him. Perhaps him seeing it will make this easier on you. He puts it down, snorting to himself, and looks around, his lips curling downwards disdainfully at the colour of this and that, at the furniture, the details on walls.  
"Hey, you brat, come here." You call out after awhile. His eyes land on you.  
"It's the second ugliest house I've ever seen. After my parents' one."  
You snicker.  
"Well, I didn't really decorate it, so I don't care what you think."

"All the more reason to pack your things right now and move in with me."

You smile, turning around to avoid his gaze.   
"Through those doors" You point, taking the orange juice and couple of glasses, following him out. He shrieks when he sees the pool, starts tearing his clothes off and runs, jumping in with a loud splash. He emerges out grinning, shaking his curls.   
You sit on the floor with your legs in the water and drink the juice. He dives in again, swimming from one end to other. You smile. He reaches you.  
"Give me a sip." He drinks from your glass, holding his wet hands on your knees. "Come in, it's beautiful!"

"In a second. Umm, I actually do need to talk to you."

"What is it?"

You sigh.  
"I'm sorry for getting so drunk last night."

He chuckles.

"It's okay, baby."

"No, no, it's not. I was a child. I really wanted to be more fun than that."

"I don't mind. It would have more fun to make love the rest of the night... but you were sleeping with me. So I forgive you!" He grins.

"You're not mad at me for that?"

"No!" He kisses your knee. "It was _entertaining_ watching you puke for an hour. And undressing you... I had half a mind to use your body, you know?"

You chortle.

"I wouldn't even feel a thing."

"Oh trust me, you'd feel it..." He says, his voice suddenly low, as he starts pushing your knees apart, spreading your legs, your naked sex in his eyeline. He licks his lips, and you have to remind yourself you need to break up with him now, but the look in his eyes is making you hot, and your drugged mind is not disagreeing with the idea. He kisses the inside of your thigh, trailing his lips to your core, the water from his curls dripping down on your skin.  
"Oakley..." You try. He pulls you closer to him, effectively rolling your skirt up, and licks your sex. You moan, trying desperately to return your mind to where it should be, but his sloshy breath and his playful, teasing tongue are making it difficult. It takes only a couple of minutes of him suckling your clit to get you dripping wet, and he slips two fingers inside you, coaxing more wetness out, along with moans of delight. He suddenly separates from you, lewdly licking his fingers, as you sit there, half naked, with your legs spread widely apart. You frown at him.

"Come in..." He beckons you, swimming away and diving in. You get up, undressing yourself while his eyes follow your movements, and jump in next to him, the explosion of water muffled by feeling of weightlessness, intensified by your high.   
He pulls you against him, and kisses you passionately, pushing you against the side of the pool. You moan into the kiss, wrapping your legs around him.  
"You're hard..."   
He starts sliding his erection against your slit, the tip getting caught and skidding over your clit, making you mewl helplessly. He nibbles on your ear lobe, purring:  
"Your soaking wet cunt usually does that to me..."   
You whimper, getting even hotter.

"I thought about how you begged me to fuck you hard yesterday..." He takes his cock in his hand and starts circling your clit, dipping down to tease your swollen entrance every couple of strokes.

"And I love when you get all slutty like that..."   
You moan again, feeling salacious weakness washing over your as you wrap your hands around his shoulders. "You're dripping wet... for me... do you like it when I do this to you?" He asks filthily, pressing the smooth head of his cock against your sensitive clit. You look at him, biting your lip, nodding.  
He clenches his jaw, his nostrils flaring. There it is again, the wicked little dominating streak he is developing rising up to the surface. You whimper when you see it, feeling more of your juices thickening to welcome the promised thrust.   
"Ahh, that innocent look of yours is making me want to slam you down on all fours and fuck you hard." He growls and you inhale sharply, panting like a mad woman.   
"Oakley please..."

"What is it, Lydia? You want me to thrust inside your warm, wet cunt?"

"Oh god please..."  
He inhales deeply, running his hands down your breasts, pinching your nipples, which are just above the surface of the water, and downwards, squeezing your hips.  
"This body..." He speaks low, his sleek voice even hotter like this, making you shudder with lust. "Is mine to pleasure..." He looks into your eyes as he slowly pushes his cock inside. Your mouth opens wide and you frown as your sopping walls wrap around the throbbing, veiny length of it. He suddenly thrusts roughly, making you yelp loudly and slam your back against the pool wall.  
"Fuck!" You spit out, the wave of lewd sweetness spreading throughout your sex, making you desire more, and you moan sweetly, to which he grits his teeth and squints at you.   
"You like me fucking you like this, don't you?"

"Yes, Oakley..."  
He slams in again, biting the conjunction of your neck and shoulder, starting to move at a steady, languid pace, which soon begins to drive you crazy, your knees shivering with lust. He spreads your legs painfully and begins to roll his hips, effectively circling his cock inside you, kneading against all of your pleasure spots. You whine with abandon, your mind reeling from the heavy, bittersweet veil of pain and utter torturous delectation. He presses his forehead against yours.  
"Lydia..."  
You look at him, your vision blurred by pleasure as he stares at you.

"I am the only one... who can do this to you."

You open your mouth to speak, but your lips quiver.  
"Love you... completely..."  
"Oakley..." You croak, trying to distance yourself from the pleasure and the entrapment, to say what you need to say to him. "Oakley, I-"

"I know what you're going to say. I know what you've been trying to say."   
He never stops rolling his hips.  
"I knew it since you walked into my apartment yesterday. You want to leave me."

"I..." You croak, your tears of lust turning into desperate tears of disgusting truth.

"You're leaving me..." His voice is weaker now, both with exertion and sadness. He thrusts again, roughly, each cant of his sex into yours making your back hit the wall of the pool, making your ache greater. But your body soaks it up, drinks the brutality of the act into its pleasurable vault, bringing you closer to capsheaf. He grunts, slamming in mercilessly, punishing you and pleading you and trying to find peace with your heart-strangling decision.   
You teeter at the edge, your mouth opening to scream, and you let the sound out, your soul bursting with horror, while your body explodes in sheer orgasm.  
He comes with you, croaking painfully into your ear.   
You take his face into your hands and start kissing every inch of his skin while your sexes are still twitching and spasming simultaneously.

"I love you, I love you, I love you..." You keep repeating, tears running down your cheeks. He separates his face from yours, the sky in his eyes threatening to break out into a storm of desolation. "I know." He whispers.

"I love you, Oakley!" You yell out loudly. "I will love you forever! Remember that!"

"I know..."

You cry, while his face starts contorting into despair.   
"Oakley, oh Oakley, my love..." You sob, breaking down, and he kisses you. The moist touch is agony, it is filled with heart-break.

He separates again, looking at you.

"Lydia, I shall nev-" He stops speaking, looking behind you. His jaw drops down as his eyes widen into shock.

"What? Oakley, what?"

He stares into something, and slowly, you turn your head around. Your face imitates the shock seen on Oakley, because what you're looking at was never to be expected in such a loud, charged moment:  
Your fianceé is standing by the garden table, holding grocery bags in his hands. He is pale as a wall, staring at the two of you. His face matches your expressions.  
The moment seems to last forever as the awkwardness starts creeping up your spine.  
Richard's lips tremble as if to speak, but he shakes his head in shock and turns around, entering the house.

You look at Oakley.

"Lyd, I-"

You push him off, shaking your head, and quickly climbing out of the pool, grabbing the nearest towel to wrap around yourself as you run into the house.  
Richard is standing by the kitchen table, placing the groceries down.  
"Richard I-"

"You were not with Mary last night, were you?"

A pause.

"I.. Richard, I-"

"ANSWER ME!" He screams, slamming his fists down. You flinch.

"...No."

"You were fucking him... in... our... house."

You swallow.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long has this been going on?"

You shake your head frantically. He points a finger at you, his tawny eyes full of anger and tears.

"A m- A month. We were lovers years ago... when I was his professor."

His face twitches with hurt. He walks to you.

"You fucked him in our house."

"Richard I... I am so sorry, I can't eve-"

"You fucked him in our house."

"I..."

"You fucked him in our house!!!"

You open your mouth to speak, but his heavy hand flies fast striking your cheek. You stumble a bit, holding your face and crying loudly.

"I'm so sorry Richard... I'm so sorry..."

"I lied. I lied so I can surprise you. The... I wanted to make you a dinner." He caresses the groceries bag. "...You said you loved him. I heard your scream. I saw you orgasming. I heard it. You said you will love him forever. Does... does that mean you never loved me?"

You look at him, your cheek stinging with the burning pain.

"And if you don't tell me the truth, you will regret it."

"I... I thought I did."

You feel yourself drawing a blank, your body turning into a stone wall.

"I thought I loved you. I haven't done this to spite you. I just... I didn't know what to do."

"So you fucked him while we planned our wedding?!"

This time, you don't flinch. You can feel your face straightening into an emotionless truth.

"Yes. Because I am that fucked up. You could never... You never would have been able to make me a person you would love, Richard."

"I loved you! I loved you, Lydia!"

"No you didn't. You loved the _idea_ of me. Just as I loved you for that idea. I thought I could be that person. I thought I could make you happy."

He starts crying, staring angrily at you.

"I am not that person, Richard. I was never a doll in your dollhouse. I am not Nora..."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"It... doesn't matter. I am sorry. I am beyond sorry for hurting you. I never meant to."

"Fuck you!! Fuck you!! Get out of my house! Pick that fucking scoundrel up and get the fuck out of my house!!!"

"Richard.."

"OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU WHORE!" He slams a fist into a table, obviously avoiding hitting you. You stutter, turning around and running out. Oakley was just putting on his shirt as you ran to him.

"Oakley!"

He looks at you, his eyes hurt and serious. You hug him, crying, but he stands still.

"Lydia."

You look at him, slightly taken aback by something sinister on his face.

"I have to go."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have to leave this house."

"I'm coming with you! I'm grabbing my bag and-"

"No."

You blink, frowning.

"You broke up with me."

"But Richard.. he.."

"You broke up with me. You sent me away today. And I am leaving."

"But Oakley, he chased me out! He... we are not... I'm not with him!"

"It's none of my concern anymore. I am not here for you to pull and push whenever you feel like it. My heart has been broken in so many pieces I don't think I could survive another one."

"Oakley, no, no, what are you saying? I love you! We have to-"

"I know, Lydia. I love you too. But you were right. We are too intense, too perfect to last. And I can't keep delaying your rejection. This time, I am accepting-"

"Oakley NO! No!"

"...Yes. Farewell, my love. Perhaps in another heaven."

He takes your face in his hands and kisses your forehead as you tremble wildly, your mind unable to cope with this. You pull on his hands as he turns around, but he says: "Let me go." Not even looking at you.  
You watch in horror as his fingers slip out of your hand, your entire being quivering painfully as he slowly opens the garden door, exiting to the street.  
The doors close behind him, and you scream, falling through the limbo into your infernal abyss.


	9. Chapter 9

Your phone rings.  
It's the fifth call from your colleague. She is trying to get you to come to work, since you can't take that much break during school year. You put your phone on silent and roll around in the bed, ignoring the tiny rays of sunshine peering through the gaps of the closed curtains.   
It's been the seventh day since you left Richard's house. Seventh day after Oakley finally got sick of you.   
You throat is dry, your stomach clenched. You can't eat or drink properly.   
After he found you naked, crying on the floor of your garden, Richard informed you he'll be away for two hours, and during that time you're to pick up every single thing you owned in the house and get out.  
You gathered your shattered strength, loaded your car and drove to the river, sleeping in your packed car. Mary called you, inviting you to come over to her, but you refused, taking a hotel room instead. After three days of screaming and crying yourself to sleep, you realised you don't have enough money to live in a hotel, and you dragged yourself to college, to read the ads on the board and rent a tiny student apartment.   
Two days after, you started to grow numb, since you no longer had water to spill out of yourself.   
You tried to call Oakley, but he didn't return your calls.   
You spent yesterday trying to type messages to him, and giving up every time. Your Drafts box was full of pleads, implores, threats of suicide, love messages, and senseless letters.  
And today, you knew you had to go to college, otherwise, you'll lose your job.   
You managed to take a first shower in a week, letting the water flow down your body, washing the sweat, the stench and dirt away.  
You dressed yourself, looking in the mirror. You looked like a corpse. Putting on your largest sunglasses, you drove your still half-packed car to the college, sighing deeply as you ascended the staircase to the dreaded lecture hall where you were to take notes on Oakley's classes. Nobody wanted to remove you from that job, since there were no plausible bases to do such a thing.   
You stand by the doors, seeing him talk to a student. Your heart stops for a second, and you want to turn around and run. But you can't. So you walk in carefully, taking your designated place. Sitting down, you take out notes and a pen with trembling hands. You are too scared to lift your head up, but you do, seeing he's throwing glances at you. You slowly take off your sunglasses and want to look down, but his eyebrows flinch upon seeing your face, his eyes going into shock. You look down, writing date on your notes, deciding to focus on your work, but it seems impossible. His sweet voice sounds like a lullaby, you can't stop looking at him during the entire class, your heart strained and tense. You didn't think this could get any harder, but having him so near you... he doesn't pay attention to you. He doesn't walk by you.   
After class, he exits first.   
You manage to direct your attention to your classes, students respond well to your tried methods. You focus on their essays. You focus on their hearts.   
But it's your lonely, painful sessions of listening to his classes that keep you right down in the gutter. You cannot gather the strength to talk to him, and he... he is polite to you, intentionally ignoring the look on your face. He even extended a hand for a handshake, but your eyes teared up and you ran away from him.   
It was sickening.   
And then one day, after two and a half weeks, you went for a coffee with Mary. She told you you look horrible. You said you know. She asked if you needed anything. You said nothing. She tried. You didn't react.   
And upon walking back to your little apartment, you saw Oakley talking to a woman. A beautiful, happy looking woman. He was smiling.   
Your heart constricted and you went crying. Again.  
It took nearly three weeks for the thought to start forming itself.   
After class, 11:30 AM, you walked to the dingy bar to drink, the bar you showed Oakley on that awfully beautiful day you spent together. The day where you should've left Richard and continued being with him.   
The place is dark, reeking of smoke and alcohol, soft blues playing in the background, the ceiling fan spinning above you. You sit on a stool by the worn out, sturdy bar. This placed judged nobody, not even you. You belonged here, you felt at home here. And started coming more often.   
"Lyd, dear. How are you?"

The elderly bartender asks. You sigh.

"I haven't seen you in a few days. Scotch, straight?"

You nod and he pours you the glass.

"I've seen that lad of yours two days ago."

You look at him.

"What lad?"

"Tall, blonde one. He drank half of this bottle and stumbled out, leaving me a generous tip."

Your lips quiver. He was here...

"Oh..."

"Ahh... so that's your story, morning glory?"

"Yes. The story of how I fucked up my life completely."

He chuckles.

"If I had a penny... You two are too young, deary, for such sentences."

"That makes it even worse. I did that to him. I left him... five years ago. And he came again. And I rejected him, to marry a man I didn't even love, because I felt I had to do it. He got fed up with me. And so did my fianceé. But none of them-"  
You empty your glass, asking for another.   
"..none of them are as fed up with myself as I am. The irony here is, my friend, that I am the only one who cannot leave me."

"Don't say such things, Lyd, you are a beautiful, kind woman, and deserve the best in life. Perhaps... perhaps this is good for you. You'll meet a man whom you'll love more than life."

Your eyes get misty, you frown, and tears flow out.

"I already met him, Jeremy. And I made him hate me..."

You cover your eyes, and he caresses your arm.

"Cry it out, honey. You'll see clearly later. Let me get you another drink."   
"Make it a double."  
"I don't think so..."

"I'll go elsewhere, Jeremy."

He sighs, pouring you a double, which you sip, thankful for the sizzling taking the edge away.  
Somewhere around your fifth glass you noticed you're blank, and Jeremy's disapproving figure is twitching and blurrying in front of your eyes. You smile.

"Ahh, that's more like it... hey Jeremy, have you ever been in love? I'm so fucked up, so deeply – inside, you know, I'm rotten on the inside... It's why I can't be happy.." Your eyes are closed, and you're gesticulating, mumbling.  
"...I'm a mockery of a human being, Jeremy. I don't deserve love!" You yell out, knocking your glass over. "Sorry!" You mutter. "That glass deserves more love than I do. But pour it again, dear Jer-"

"Lad, you're here!"

You open your eyes to see what's Jeremy talking about, and you see Oakley sitting down next to you.

"Ahh, here he is, Jeremy! My trepidation, my love and my demise... all in one person. Look at him, look at how beautiful he-"

"Lydia, you're drunk."

"And so smart, so perceptive! Yes, I am, Oakley, and thank God for the gift of being drunk... Jeremy, another one!"

"Lyd, I really don't think you should have more..."

"Shhh... are you my friend or not? You shall not let me out of this bar on my two feet! I shall crawl out!"

"Lydia..."   
"Lad, what was it? Oakley? Look at what you've done to this poor girl."

"Shhh, Jeremy, no! He didn't! He's an angel... it's me who is bad, bad, bad... Where is my scotch?! I'm a paying customer!"

Oakley stares at you, frowning, his eyes full of pain. As blurry as they seem to you, the exact aching shade of blue is clear. He takes your hand.

"Lydia, stop drinking."

"No, my love, no, I have to. Why did you come here? To torment me? To remind me even a bottle of scotch is not enough to make me last alive for a day? You came to drink, didn't you?"

He sighs.

"I'll take that as a yes. Jeremy, pour him a drink. He needs to forget about me! He needs to forget I ever existed and go on thriving!"

"No." Jeremy speaks.

"Why doesn't anybody let me drink!" You yell, slamming your fists against the bar, rising up, stumbling, and try to walk away to another bar. Oakley catches you.

"Let me go."

"Lydia..."

"Let me go! You already did it!"

"Lad, if you care about her one bit, you will take her home and put her to bed. Never mind the check."

Oakley nods, rising up and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you out. You stop him, laying your head on his shoulder, holding him tightly.

"Oakley..." You mumble, inhaling the scent of his body.

"Lydia, we have to go. Come on. Where do you live?"

"Uhh... It's the... " You try to remember the name of the street, mumbling incoherently. After a few minutes, he sighs, giving up on making you say it. He puts you in his car, and the bumpy ride is making you uncomfortable. His scent keeps you silent, keeps you constantly trying to hold him, leaning on him, while he fumbles with the lock. You kiss his neck, nuzzle your face into the loving skin. You half hear what he is saying to you, concentrating only on the soft pillow as you fall down on it.   
Some time later, you open your eyelids, focusing just enough to recognise his room. You recall what happened, and rise up, still dressed in your jeans and a shirt, putting on your shoes. Walking around the place, you hear a shower running.   
Sighing, you write a note "Thank you. I'm sorry." and place it on his pillow, before sneaking out and running down the stairs to catch a cab to your car.   
You take off your clothes when you get to your apartment, throwing them around the already clattered, small room, exhaling a loud breath, embarrassed by yourself. You are pathetic. You angered poor Jeremy, you made a fool of yourself in front of Oakley. Who knows what you said to him. You remember clinging to him even though he tried to disentangle your arms gently.

You feel like a complete failure, and for the millionth time in the past two weeks, you curl in a fetal position and start crying.   
Although, the thought that started forming some time ago never leaves you.   
Your phone rings, signalling a message.

 _"Stop destroying yourself."_  
You huff. Who is he to tell you what to do? He is done with you, and rightfully so. He doesn't get to care about you know.   
After you calm down, you take your phone, clucking your tongue at the nagging thought. What if... What if you can get him back again?  
You type:

"Sorry for dragging you into it."

Ten minutes later, another message arrives.

_"It's ok. I don't want to see you do that to yourself."_

"I'm not forcing you to watch. It's my bar. Plus you came to drink also."

Your lips twitch with a smile, knowing this will anger him slightly.  
_"It's not about that! I wouldn't fall down from how drunk I am!"_

You smile.

"You didn't have to do anything."

_"Oh please. The bartender wanted to beat the crap out of me."_

"I could've taken a cab to my apartment."

_"You didn't even know the address, that's how wasted you were!"  
_ You laugh, the sound weird after so much time, knowing full well you couldn't remember the address, but trying to get him mad. 

"Rainsbridge 14A! Since you're so hell bent on keeping me sober, write it down! Or leave me be. Cheers, Oakley, I've a fresh bottle opened!"

You chuckle.

_"You're recalcitrant."_

You don't answer, leaving his comment hanging in the air, knowing he can't stand when you don't respond to him. Instead, you take a shower and decide to go for a walk.   
The night is soothing and calm, and you wander off, thinking about how to get him back. Keeping him constantly on the edge is of utmost importance. Being feisty. Threatening him. Make him believe you could end up dead in a ditch somewhere. It's dirty play, but you're willing to use whatever it takes.  
You were calm and unengaged his next couple of classes, writing down notes and leaving as soon as he finished the lecture. He didn't text you again. And then you saw her. The blonde he talked to the other day, giving him a little piece of paper. Probably her number. You tighten your lips and squint at her. By his simper, you knew he accepted it out of kindness.   
But still, women as beautiful as her only mean trouble.   
So you put on your sunglasses, inhale deeply, and with a Pink Panther theme in your head, you begin to follow her.   
She drives downtown, parks in front of a tea shop, and, shaking her long blonde mane, enters inside. You wait a spell before following her in. She sits at a table and begins scrolling through a magazine. You buy the same magazine at the stand and quickly return, sitting at a table next to hers, beginning to turn the pages loudly. She looks at you after awhile, reading the name of the magazine and smiling at it. You raise your eyebrows, nodding at her.   
Slowly, you sip on your tea, turning the page to a catalogue of dresses.   
"Excuse me, miss?"

She looks at you.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering, could I get your opinion on an outfit? You'll be impersonal, you're a stranger."

She smiles her perfect white smile.

"Of course!"

"Page 54, the blue dress. What do you think?"

She flips the papers, staring at the dress, and then at you.

"Actually, I think the red might suit you wonderfully, considering your almost auburn hair and your brown eyes."

"Really?" You pretend to be thinking. "Hm, I suppose you're right. I wonder what he'll think..."

"If you don't mind me asking, where would you wear it?"

"Oh" You wave your hand, rising up from the table and walking to her. "May I?" You point to the chair.

"Oh, please, have a seat."

"Umm... it's a friend's birthday, and there is this bloke I fancy. You know, the usual. I'm just wondering if he even notices me..."

"I'm sure he does, you're lovely!"

You wave your hand.

"Thank you, you're too kind, but after my last dreadful relationship, I don't feel very lovely. Men can be such pigs, you know?"

"Oh, do I even!"

"He cheated on me so many times I cannot even count them. And he was beautiful, great in bed... such a sweet talker, you know? He grins and blinks at me, and the next evening, I return home early to find him ejaculating in another girl's mouth, pardon my uncouthness!"   
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry." She looks at you, shaking her head in sympathy.

"The bastard was a literature professor at this... college here. Just beautiful. Golden locks to die for, eyes blue as a sky. Treacherous eyes! Never trust the blue eyes!"

She suddenly frowns, staring at you. You ignore the expression and continue talking, waving your hand dramatically.

"Seemed so gentlemanly... Ah, well. Oh my, I'm boring you! I'm so sorry, I always go on a rant when I remember him! I will leave you to your tea. Thank you for the adv-"

"Wait, please! This... man... would you mind telling me what was his name?"  
You pretend you're confused.

"Uhh... Oakley. Oakley Brigham."

Her eyes widen, she gasps, covering her mouth in shock. You have to force yourself to keep a straight face and not burst into laughter.

"What is it?"

"He... oh Lord. I'm... Are you sure?"

You frown.

"Well I suppose I would know the name of my year long boyfriend, mind you. What's it to you?"

"I'm sorry, it's just... I'm... I'm thinking of dating him. I mean, I think it's him, how many literature professors named Oakley Brigham are there? Oh god, I gave him my number, he said he'll call!"

You grab her hands.

"Oh no! Not you too! You're exactly his type! ... Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't give you my name. I'm Bernice." You say the name of his mother.

"Uh... Nina."

"Nina, if that's the same person, run away from him! He is... you would not believe what he's capable of, dear!"

"What are the chances..."

"Oh my. I believe we met for a reason, Nina. I am just a stranger, I know, but I could not sleep at night if I didn't at least warn you. He's a scoundrel, a lothario. Be wary. You're beautiful, and seem kind, you deserve a good man, honey."

She is still in disbelief, shaking her pretty little head.

"I can't... I just can't believe this is happening. And he... he seems so kind."

You sigh dramatically.

"I know. I have to go now. But at least be careful, will you?"

"Yes, yes, of course... I am not sure should I go out with him now."

"Best not, if you already haven't set a date."

"I suppose... I suppose you're right, Bernice."

You sigh.

"I have to go, dear. Thank you for your opinion. I wish you the best of luck..."

She squeezes your hand.

"No... thank you."

You simper, picking your magazine and strutting out, containing your laughter until you go around a corner, where you hold your stomach guffawing, jumping around, feeling good for the first time in weeks.


	10. Chapter 10

It was too devious, you think. She'll say something to him, and he'll connect the dots and get angry with you for being so deranged.   
_Good._   
But perhaps you managed to scare her off altogether. And she'll just scoff at him, throw a curt insult, and the poor, innocent thing will just stand there, all confused. And if you're  _really lucky,_ the word will spread around like wildfire. Perhaps it was a bit too much? Perhaps you should've....

_No, no._ You don't care about anyone else.   
It was about time to plan out the steps, like a predator. Get him drunk. Get him turned on. Sleep with him. Tie him to the bed and make him promise he'll be with you.   
You laugh at the joking thought.  
However, getting him turned on was a good idea. Peeling off the face of a corpse and replacing it with the image of the woman he grew to love is of the utmost importance, and so you get up early, shower yourself, perfume yourself. Put make up on, put complimenting clothes on. A bit careless, laid back, nothing too much. Extremely tight jeans, a light loose T-shirt which looked like a sheer curtain if you stood in the right light.   
You get to his lecture hall early, handing him the notes.

"Oakley!"

"Hey!"

"Listen, I wanted to say I have to give some notes in early."

"Oh, okay. What did you write?"

"I trashed you completely."

You chuckle and his lips twitch.   
"I didn't, don't worry. It's just a standard report."

You put a hand on his shoulder, and he looks at it, and then at you.   
"You seem to be a bit... better."

"Perhaps... perhaps I am."

"That's good."

"Yes it is. You have a little something there..."

You make up, getting closer to him and pulling out a single lock from his slicked back hair.

"Got it! It's just a crumb. Oh, sorry, messed up your haircut."

You take his face in your hand, caressing his hair with the other one. He looks at you wide-eyed.

"Okay. Talk to you later."

You nod and spin on your heel, walking to your seat, throwing another short glance at him, to see him frowning, staring suspiciously.

On the way to your break, you keep away from him. You see Matt, your colleague, approaching to talk to you.

"Hey, Lydia, how are you feeling?"

You unnecessarily hug him, brushing your lips against his cheek.

"I'm good, Mattie, taking small steps, you know?"

"Listen, I've talked with Richard..."

"How is he?"

You take his hands in yours, knowing Oakley is pouring himself some coffee and staring at you, though unable to hear what you're talking about. Matt looks at your hands, uncomfortable with your sudden closeness.

"Uhh... he is... I'm not going to lie to you. He is not well. Doesn't leave the house."

You look to the floor.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. It is something that will guiltily lay on my soul forever. But, I think it's going to do him good. We could not have been happy together."

"I suppose you're right."

"Thank you for talking to me, Matt. I was sure I'd be treated like a witch."

"What happened... is between the two of you. I'm not 16, you know? I do wish you both well."

"You're a kind man!" You say, hugging him again. From the corner of your eye you can see Oakley staring at you, leaning on a table.

You greet Matt and walk to Oakley, picking your bag from the table.

"Hey." You say, not looking at him. He catches your hand.

"Are you going drinking now?"

You squint at him.

"None of your business."

Shaking off his hand, you hurry out the doors, smiling to yourself.   
The Literature department's foundation dinner was coming up, a rather boring chit-chatting celebration in the secluded garden. Everybody had to show up.   
You decided to knock him off his feet. Knowing what you had to do, you called Mary and explained it to her. She accepted, because she wanted to see you, but sighed once you met.

"Mary, you don't understand. I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I need him. He is hurt, and scared, and I understand his position. But he loves me. It's clear as a day."

"Lydia, are you sure you want to do this to yourself?"

"Yes. Yes. It's the only way for both of us to truly be happy. And... I know just how to do it. I've been broken the past few weeks, completely broken, probably pushed him even farther away. But he is a curious boy, Mary. He will want to know why do I look so good all of a sudden. It'll eat him alive."

She smiles.

"What do you want to do?"

She asks as you enter the boutique.

"I want him to lose the ability to speak when he sees me. I know just what to do. He was always crazy about _red._ It was his jerking off fantasy when he was a teenager or something. I remember he pawed at me whenever I wore red. And the red lingerie... I used to come four times in a row before he even took off his-"

You see the shopping assistant staring at the two of you, and Mary chuckles, covering her mouth. The lady clears her throat. You grin.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, you can... miss Anne." You read the card on her chest. "Now, Anne, I want you to show me all of your red cocktail dresses."

She smiles.

"Follow me."

She leads you to a rack of colorful dresses and starts displaying them. You bite your lip looking at the three dresses, one of them strapless, widening into a bell-like form, reaching almost the calves, the other with short puffy sleeves, in a light red colour, the third one tight, thick, with sequins on the edges.

"No, no."

"The sequins are cute..." Mary speaks, caressing the dress. "Try it on."   
"Ok, put it aside. What else?"  
Anne gets more red dresses out, and you frown, none of them catches your eye.

"Naah... I don't know."

"If I may, what is the occasion?"

You think about it.

"It's for... driving a man mad with desire. A man whose main teenage fantasies were those women... You know, like an elegant whore." Anne laughs. "Curve-hugging, that's for sure. I have curves."  
She looks at you, top to bottom, acknowledging your form. You were never the slim model type. With years, you learned just what advantages that carries.

Anne smiles widely.

"Tell you what, go to the dressing rooms, take this dress and try it on. I'll bring you more."  
"Good girl!" You clap your hands and pull Mary behind you, entering a wide stall and trying on the dress. You pout, exiting out.  
"I hate the sequins, Mary."

"But it's beautiful!"

"No, no, that's not it." You shake your head, just as Anna is stumbling her way to you, carrying a red pile in her arms. You run to her, bare footed, taking the burden and bringing it to your stall.

The second dress you try on is short-sleeved with a slightly ruffled skirt. You shake your head and immediately take it off. Third one is thick, tightening around you so you can't even walk properly. And as much as the firm material straightens every single wrong line on your body, it's just not that.

"I can't even sit on him like this." You say, making Mary and Anne laugh, and returning to your stall to try another one. Your eyebrow raises up at the rich burgundy cleavage, the black satin ribbon below the breasts accentuating the line, and very elegantly falling down to your knees.  
"Wow." Mary says.

"It's so dainty..." Anne nods her head.

"It is very elegant... but... that's not it."

Mary sighs, slapping a palm to her forehead.

"It's  _too_ elegant. I need it to be just a little slutty. Not too much, it's a dinner party! But just a little. I want his jaw to drop down. And I want other men to notice me as well, I'll be needing to make him jealous."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don't listen to her, Anne, she's mad about this guy."

"He's an angel!"

Anne chuckles as you walk back into the stall, throwing the dress aside and pulling out another red blob from the pile, pulling it over yourself. And your mouth opens in shock. _This is the one._  
You adjust it, stretching the tiny bits, tucking your breasts inside properly, pulling it down.   
[The dress](http://fashionattractive.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/red-ruched-fitted-club-wear-satin-mini-cocktail-dress.jpg)  was curve hugging, ruched at the sides, with thick straps. It reminded you of the 90's, with a gorgeous cleveage containing a secret elegance. And a very unsecret lewdness. You chuckle, caressing it.

"Where are you?" You hear Mary calling and you jump out.

"Ta-daaa!" You spin around. Both their eyes widen.

"Fuck, you're hot!"

"Thank you, thank you!" You bow down. "This is it, this is the dress, the elegant whore dress!"

Mary is shaking her head is disbelief. "You look... it's really, really good on you."

"What do you think, Anne?"

"You're beautiful! If he doesn't fall down on his knees, he's a fool."

You grin.

"You work on commission, huh?"

She laughs. "But I'm not lying."

"I'm joking. Thank you, dear girl."

"Lydia..."

"Yes?"

"Perhaps... maybe it's a tad too much. Don't get me wrong, you're fucking hot, but it's a college dinner party..."

You dart Mary a dirty look, sighing.   
"Pffft... I knew it."   
You tap your finger on your lip.

"I'll pull it down a bit, it's ruched at the sides. And I'll wear ... I'll have a black pashmina over my shoulders. For  _the mingling_ , at least."

"Hmm, okay then."

"Plus I don't really care about them. Everybody will be ogling hot students as it is."

"With you looking like that, I highly doubt it."

"Anne, go prepare the check. I'm buying it."

She smiles widely, nodding her head, as you change into your clothes.  
"Lydia, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, MARY, I am sure." You say, annoyed, as you exit the store. "Will you help me with make up and haircut tomorrow?"

"Of course! I can't leave you to yourself, you'll end up cutting the dress."

You both laugh as you go get a cup of tea. The rest of the day, you can't stop thinking about the party, barely controlling yourself from texting him. The dress stood in its wrapping, hanging on the outer side of your closet.   
You hardly slept at all, it was more like a meditation on your lover. Of all the things he said he loves about you. You had to bring it out, you had to make it visible on yourself. In good time.  
For now, you were hypnotized back to the first few times you made love. Back to the way he looked at your body when he thought you didn't notice. Back to the gleaming maps of memory: Your skin remembered how he feasted on you when you allowed him, wiggling his lean, elongated limbs between your legs, his fingers squeezing the softest parts of your hips, the sharp features of his face nuzzled in the flesh of your breasts.

You smile in your sleep, the nostalgia vivid.  
The next morning was slow, it dragged on forever, the few hours until the 7PM dinner seemed like ages. You must've called Mary three times before she agreed to have the lunch at your apartment , starting her work on you earlier than planned.   
Your giddy, but nervous mood caught up with her, and she started laughing even more than you. It could've been a good ladies' night out, if you haven't had other plans.

You took a shower and carefully stretched the dress over yourself, wearing a lacy red thong and a sheer red bra under it. Liking what you saw in the mirror, you sat down in the chair, and allowed Mary to make you a haircut. She curled up your relatively straight hair, brushing it into sleek waves, and sweeping it to one side of your head, pinning it.   
The fairly simple eye makeup left enough space to fill your lips with with rich red colour, a bit darker than your dress. Mary did you up with a matte layer which made your lips look like a plumpy red berry. To keep the attention where you wanted it, you took a [black necklace](http://i1.wp.com/brokeandbeautiful.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Black-Totem-Necklace1.jpg), black nails, and matching simple black stilettos – to go with the black pashmina you had to keep over your shoulders.

As you walked to the mirror to see the results, Mary kept jumping around you, proud of her work.

"Lydia, you're beautiful! Beautiful!"

You smiled at the image. It did not look half bad.   
After the initial happiness of finding out you looked good wore out, doubt and what felt like a stage-fright began creeping up your spine.

"Oh Mary, what if he doesn't show up?"

"You said it's obligatory."

"Yes, but... What if he has a date?" You mewl, contorting your face.

"If he does – he is a fucking idiot. Although, it still won't matter, because he'll take one look at you and fall on his toned behind."

You throw her a look.

"What? I'm not fucking blind! Your boy looks good."

You chortle.

"Mmm... that he does."   
You sigh.

"O Lydia, honey, calm down. You've been so well past few days, I can tell this will do you good. Come on, he just needs a slap in the face." She holds you, and you hug her.  
"I'm scared, Mary. I'm so scared."

"I know... But don't be. You're smoking hot. I've seen how he is around you that night. He adores you. Remember that. Don't you dare cry and fuck up my perfect make up."

You chuckle, sniffing, and inhaling deeply.

"Ok, ok, you're right. What time is it? It's 6. I'll go earlier, see how the entire thing looks, check out the battle field."

She smiles.

"Good plan. And don't forget the pashmina." She snickers.

You kiss her cheek, the perfectly applied lipstick leaving almost no trail at all and you both exit.   
The ride there doesn't last long, and you find yourself arriving almost half an hour earlier, immediately hopping to the bar for a glass of wine.   
"You're early, miss." The bartender says to you.

"Ah, I know."

"Literature?"

"Yes." You nod, smiling.

"May I ask which year?"

Your eyes widen and you chuckle.

"Ah, fishing for tips, are we? I'm a professor, darling."

He smirks.

"Well, I may have gone to college if I had a professor like you."

You shake your head at him, sipping your wine, while on the inside you're jumping like a little girl at the compliment. You smoke your cigarettes and adjust your pashmina to cover your breasts as you watch the people starting to flock in.   
Tia walks to you.

"Professor! You are beautiful!"

"Tia, sweetie! I told you already, call me Lydia. And thank you, dear, you look lovely as well."

She smiles, ordering a drink for herself. As she walks back, a tiny group of friends circle her, obviously asking questions about you.   
Well, the rumours and the truths had to spread around eventually.   
Suddenly, you don't feel so comfortable anymore. Couple of your colleagues come to you, wide eyed and complimenting your look. You keep pulling the hem of your dress to cover more of your thighs. Matt talks to you for about ten minutes, and all the while you're looking over his shoulders, searching for Oakley. He is awfully late, and you're starting to get nervous, ordering more wine.   
The flattering bartender does ask where is your date, and when you hesitantly answer you're alone, he pours you another glass _on the house._ You sigh, slowing down with the drinking, taking out your little mirror to check on your makeup.  
Almost an hour passes, you've greeted everybody you were supposed to, even chit-chatted with some of the students, and he is not here yet. You tap your fingers against the bar, thinking it's perhaps a good idea to take your purse and leave the place, go home, drink half a bottle of vodka and crash down. Just as you almost completely gave up, a fleck of gold enters your vision. You turn your head around to see Oakley walking inside, taking off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He doesn't see you yet, and you quickly straighten up your posture, lighting another cigarette, and pretending you're just now ordering a drink. You catch him talking to a boy from his class, as his eyes wander around, slowly discovering your location. He is too far away for you to properly see his face, but you saw his mouth opening, and nonchalantly turned your head to the bar, pretending you didn't see anything. 

You begin counting. By the time you got to six, you hear his voice:

"Lydia!"   
And turn around, smiling.

"Oakley, good evening!"

He holds his jacket in his hands, his mouth agape, his eyes huge and licking you from your hair and face, across the pashmina, mouth closing to grit the teeth when he sees the  _red,_ down your naked legs, and up again, finally stopping at the part of the blackness which covered your cleavage.   
He was never very subtle, and stared like a buffoon at everything he seemed to like. And he was absolutely smitten by what he sees. You smirk, clearing your throat.

"You... you look beautiful, Lyd..."

"Thank you, O. You're not bad yourself."

It was true, the tightness of his trousers and shirt was almost competing with your dress, the tiny buttons working hard to hold the two flashing black sides of his shirt together. The trousers were dark grey, hugging the yummy curve of his behind, making you want to squeeze it.   
He stared at you, opening his mouth, trying to talk.

"Yes?"

You asked, blinking at him. He shook his head, tittering to himself, and ran his fingers through his curls. You placed another cigarette between your lips, drawing attention to them, pretending you're looking for the lighter. He fumbled with his pockets and lit it, staring at the billowing smoke rising from the plumpy red halves.   
His lips were twitching, the mischievous gleam in his eyes as he adjusted his shirt said a lot to your trained eyes: _the boy sees something he likes. The boy wants to touch. The boy wants to play with the shiny red toy._ And the shiny red toy was more than willing to be played with.  
And he was a boy right now, the embarrassing sparkle in his eyes making him adorable. You had to control yourself not to lean over and kiss him, to see what kind of face he would make then.   
"I actually forgot what I wanted to say to you."  
He grins nervously, his cheeks almost blushing. He was looking cuter and cuter every passing second.

"That's okay, baby. It'll come to you." You cosett him.   
"So, uh, how are you?"

"Oh I'm okay, nothing special. You?"

"Uhh, fine. I'm fine. How long have you been here?"

He asks, trying hard to keep looking into your eyes. You're hell bent on making it as difficult as possible, licking your lip slowly, clucking your tongue, pretending to be thinking.

"Umm, I don't know, about an hour."

"Who were you with?"

"Alone, talking to some boys from the class. And the bartender here. Hey, Mark, another one, will you honey? Oh, and a beer for my... colleague here." You wink at the confused bartender.

"He is such a sweetheart Oakley, keeps giving me drinks on the house."   
Oakley looks at the bartender, his eyebrow twitching a little. You refrain from smiling.   
"So, Mark, what was that? You're leaving around 11? And where are you going?"  
The bartender raises an eyebrow, before another person called him and he lifted a finger to signal you to wait. Oakley was leaning on the bar with his elbow, rubbing lips with his knuckles.   
"Did you come just now?" You ask him, sipping on your wine.

"Yeah. Do you know that guy?"

"No, I just met him. He actually thought I was a student, can you believe that? He is either crazy, or wants me to tip him, or is complimenting me because he wants something else. I don't know! Anyway, he is a total darling."

"Yeah... I don't like him."  
You shrug.

"You don't have to like him."

He looks at you.

"Be careful, Lydia."

"Of what? He might leave me high and dry? I don't even think I'd notice, he'd be third in a row. I'm kind of used to it. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to  _mingle._ "  
"Lyd..."

You take your glass and walk away from him, though admittedly a bit mad at yourself for over-reacting like you did.   
The night is falling down, replacing the shiny daylight with garden lamps, which throw mysterious shadows on faces, whispering flashes of skin.  
Talking to some of the students, you turn around every now and then, keeping track of Oakley. Your eyes met a couple of times, and you pretend to order wine quite often, but throw most of the contents into the nearby flowerpot when nobody's looking. Oakley sees you ordering, and you know he'll start worrying you'll get too drunk again and perhaps the bartender will take advantage of that.   
So when you lean over the bar, he reaches you.

"Lyd, what are you doing?"

"Trying to order a drink. Hey, Mark, I'm your favourite customer, come here!"

"That's too much."

"Yes, sir." You say, mimicking a soldier. When you lean back to the bar, you are closer to him, and intentionally squeeze your hip against his crotch. He inhales sharply, taking your hand in his.

"Will you at least slow down?"  
You pretend you're shifting from one leg to the other, all the while pressing into him more and more. He wraps his arm around your waist and makes you look at him.

"You're far too beautiful to be jeopardizing yourself like that, Lyd." He says, his voice low and feels like somebody's pouring balm over your body. You place your hand on his chest and glide it down his torso to his stomach.

"Perhaps I want to be beautiful for someone tonight?"

He sighs, closing his eyes. When he opens them, your face is closer to his.

"Have a drink with me, Oakley." You purr, looking at his lips, and pressing your fingers a bit deeper into his stomach. You can almost feel his heart beat increasing.   
  
"No? Suit yourself, then." You yank his arm off yourself, and take your glass of wine, your heart thumping like crazy from being scorned, seating yourself on a stool and lighting a cigarette. He stands there for a minute or two, before walking away, and you almost burst into tears. Is he seriously that immune to you?  
You swallow a lump, closing your eyes. _No, no he is not. He wants you, you know him. He wants you badly. He just thinks it's not a good decision for either of you._   
You're not giving up so easily.   
Feeling you have to take a pee, you rise from your chair, adjusting your pashmina and walking slowly in the direction of the building, deciding to gather your strength again before continuing to seduce him.   
There is a normal path, which goes _around_ the building, and a shorter, cobble-stoned one, full of tiny rubble in between. You can't hold it for long, so you decide to test your luck with the rubble, carefully balancing your stilettos, sighing, wondering how much a twisted ankle would hurt. 

A few seconds later, Oakley runs to you, stopping you.   
"Where are you going?"

"Umm... I have a _urination sensation in my lower quadration_?" You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Hah, good one. But you'll break your leg walking over this, fool."

"Well, I _need to pee fast._ "   
He sighs and offers you his arm, which you gladly take. You were smirking to yourself for long enough to forget your steps, and your leg slips off lightly. You shriek and stumble forward, flailing your arms, and he catches you, grabbing your waist. As you look at him, your pashmina slides off the sleek dress to the floor, and his eyes fall down to view the entirety of your dress for the first time tonight. His eyebrow arches up, he stares at your heaving cleavage. After the initial shock, you push him off, leaning over to pick up your pashmina, shaking it to get the dust off.   
"See? If I hadn't been there to catch you..."

"I'm such a damsel in goddamn distress. Fucking heels."

"Why did you wear them, then? You're almost as tall as I am like this."

"So I can look down on your smug face, you tit."  
He chuckles.   
"Let's go, I almost peed just now!"

You grab his arm and speed into the building.   
"Thank you, you can go." You say to him, but he just leans on the window seat, folding his arms over his chest. You roll your eyes, taking off your pashmina and your purse and leave it for him to hold.

"Be useful, at least."

He can't help himself, he drinks in your entire frame again. You turn around and walk to the bathroom unnecessarily slowly, to make sure he sees _everything,_ smiling to yourself.   
Staring at the mirror, you fix your hair, pull the skirt of the dress a tiny bit up, considering you'll have some alone time with him, and adjust your breasts. You smirk to yourself, inhaling deeply as you exit.  
You lick your lips while walking to him, taking your purse and getting your mirror and lipstick out. 

"Just a second, it's smeared."

You say, carefully reapplying the lipstick, smacking your lips at him. He stares at you with his I-know-what-you're-doing face, and you just smile.

"Is it okay?"

He nods, annoyed, closing his eyes. You use the opportunity to lean over and kiss his cheek. He flinches and separates from you, wiping his cheek, seeing the red trail on. You laugh.

"It's cute, leave it on."

"On my cheek?! I look like my mother kissed me!"

He rubs his fingers against it. You lean over again and quickly peck his lips.

"Lyd!"

"Now you don't look like your mother kissed you. I could leave one on your collar too.." You take a step towards him, and he jumps away.

"No!"  
You laugh.

"Don't be such a sourpuss, Oakley. It's a fun night."   
He walks over to the bathroom to wash it off, and you lean on the door frame, grinning at him.

A couple of girls walk by just as you wanted to speak.

"Listen, I'm really not that-"

Suddenly, another flurry of students chuckles in the hallway. He walks out, listening to you.

"I'm not that drunk, really."

"Tipsy?"

"Yeah, so maybe-"

Two professors walk by, and you frown.

"Oh Jesus, what is this all of a sudden? I can't talk like this."   
You pull his hand and drag him a little down the hallway, but people just keep strolling by. Sighing, you spot the doors of the broom closet and open them, pushing him in and before he has a chance to say anything, you close them behind you loudly – only to see the door knob remained in your hand. The automatic light turns on, and you stare at the knob.

"Fuck." You mumble.

"Lyd, the-"   
He sees you're fumbling with something, and as he leans forward, he hits his head against the light bulb, making it swing around dangerously, and you both open your mouths in shock as you watch, almost in slow motion, as the bulb hits the wall. Thin glass membrane bursts, and the light goes off, suddenly bathing you in complete darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

"Fuck!" You say, trying to get the knob into the hole. "Fucking knob fell off!"

"What? Jesus, how small is this space?!"

You try to push the doors, but they won't budge.

"Don't push them! Give me the knob!"   
He leans over you, but you wave your hand.

"I know how to put a knob in the doors, Oakley, Jesus!"

You yell out, slapping his hand away, but as he grabs your wrist in the darkness, too roughly, you shake your hand – hurling the knob away, having it land somewhere on the floor with a thud.   
There is a pause.

"See what you did? Move, I have to find it!"

"I am trying to move, Lyd, it's impossible!"

You stretch your hands behind him, feeling the walls.

"What?" You say, tapping around, revealing the space to be just enough for you both to squeeze in, as the majority of it is taken by a gigantic iron shelving unit full of rags and wipes.   
"Fuck." You mumble.   
"Hold still, I'll try to find the knob, it's not that small." You slide down on your knees, tapping at the wooden floor. Couple of minutes pass.

"Did you find it?"

"Well I think you would know if I did,  _Oakley._ " You say, angry.

"This is the smallest space in history, the knob is as big as the fucking floor, HOW can you miss it?"

"I don't know, stop yelling at me!"

"This is your fault!"

You give up tapping on the floor and awkwardly rise up.

"How is this my fault? Did I build this building? Did I construct this space or put the fucking shelves in here?" You hit the metal with your fist, feeling thundering pain explode in your knuckles.

"Ow! Fuck!" You frown. "Oh I'm so stupid... ow..."

He sighs.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you care?! This is my fault!"

"Lyd."

You hold your knuckles to your lips, feeling tiny cuts and welts over them. He takes your hand into his and touches it. You yelp.

"You hurt yourself."

"My bag is on that window seat, give me your phone, I'll call Susie, she won't ask any questions."

He shifts in the darkness.

"Oh god."

"What? Don't say  _Oh god._ That doesn't sound good."

"My jacket is in the garden."

"You carry your phone in your jacket? Why didn't you put it in your pocket?"

"It's... too tight."

You snort loudly, the sound even more mocking in complete dark.

"Oh please. That dress looks like it was moulded on you."

You smile, saying nothing.

"So how do we get out?"

"Are you sure you can't find the door knob?"

"I'll try again, in a second, my hand still hurts a bit."

"I'll do it."   
He starts to slide down, the space so small his face is literally touching your breasts, and you bite your lips to prevent chuckling.   
He gets down on the floor, tapping around, accidentally leaning entire weight on his palm - on your toes, and you yelp.

"Sorry!"

"Get up, I'll try, I'm smaller."

He drags himself up against you, holding his breath. You lick your lips, this time intentionally smoothing your hands down his body. You tap around shortly, and then your hand touches it. It was just below the lower shelf. You bite your lips, thinking how you want to be in here with him a bit longer, to drive him crazy, and remove your hands from the knob.

"I can't find it. My hand hurts me, I'll take a break."

You glide up, your spread legs around his, and you inhale, to accentuate the press of your breasts against him, ending up with gasping loudly to his face.

"What? What is it?"

"I think something ran over my waist! Ahh! What if it's a rat?!"

"A rat over your waist? Jesus, Lyd, what are you, 5?"

You pin yourself against him, jumping up and down, holding him firmly.

"It's creeping me out!"

He holds you still.

"Calm down, you're imagining things."

You breathe rapidly against his neck, refraining from bursting into laughter.

"But seriously, this broom closet?"

"Well, I thought it was going to be the normal size, like the last one."

Your eyes widen in the blackness, remembering just what you did in the last broom closet. Suddenly, the press of your body against his crotch seems greater.

You're both silent, sounds of your breathing strong. You get off him, leaning back against the wall.   
You can smell him from here, and you feel yourself getting hot.   
"Alas, we're missing the party."

"Ahh, yes."

He says, mocking you.

"I sure could use another drink now."

He huffs.

"Really? You're becoming an alcoholic. How on Earth would a drink help you now?"

"Well, it could distract me, for one."

He is silent for awhile, you can hear his breathing.  
"From what?"

"From you."

Silence, again. The darkness is confining, it's making you aroused, curious to see his expression now.  
"Why am I distracting you? From what?"

You smile. So he does want to play.

"I could've been out by now, fishing compliments from handsome strangers, perhaps one of them could be beautiful enough..."

"That's why you've put on that dress and make up?"

"Of course, why else?"

You can almost _see_ him squinting at you.

"I thought that maybe you wore that for me."

You laugh.  
"Now why would I do that? You don't want me, and no amount of _hugging red dresses_ , _sheer red bras_ or _lacey red thongs_ is going to make you feel otherwise."

He inhales sharply, and you chuckle loudly.

"What's so funny?"

You suddenly lean on him, your lips ghosting over his. You take his hands and place them on your breasts.

"You think I'm lying."   
You pull down the upper part of your dress, pushing his fingers inside, to cup your breast.  
"See? Sheer. Look with your fingers, Oakley."   
You guide his other hand down the length of your dress to the hem of your dress, which you pull up, and push his hand around your hip, across your buttock. You dart your tongue out to lick his lips.

" _If looooove is a dress red, hang me in rags..._ " You start singing, and he laughs, at last. "Quite appropriate, don't you think?"

"Lyd..."

"No, it is. Maria McKee wrote that song for this moment right now. I'm offering myself to you, I've wrapped myself in seven red veils for you. Like Salome. I'll seduce you and tear your head off."

"Oh, you will?"  
"I wish you wore a tie, so I can hang you here if you refused me now and make it look like a suicide."

He chuckles against your lips, his breath hot and sweet.

"You think you could overpower me?"

He grabs your hips, squeezing you against him. You can feel the hardening in his trousers increasing.

"Yes, I could."  
He leans his head and licks your neck. You moan, feeling your knees trembling.   
"You can't even stand on your own legs around me..."   
He purrs, touching lightly your lips with his.

"You like that, don't you, Oakley? When you make me weak..." You lick his lips. "But you keep forgetting how easy you are."

"Oh, really?"

"I've seen the way you looked at me tonight."

He chuckles.

"Well, you do look nice..." He slides his hand across your waist to your breasts.

"So do you like what I wore for you?

"Ahh, so, it was for me..."

"Yes, like a gift. I was hoping you'd want to unwrap it..."

He chuckles, his stubble prickling your neck heavenly, sending goosebumps over you. His hands roam your body, reaching down to pull the dress up and squeeze your buttocks. He kisses your neck, sucking lightly.

"I wish I could see what I'm doing..." He says.  
"Oh how I hate the fact..."

"What fact?"

"The fact you're making me so wet that all I want to do is for you to slam me against a wall and fuck me... and I can't. You don't want me anymore."

You say, separating from him, and lean back to your side of the tiny room.   
"You wretched tease." He growls, pulling you back to him as you chuckle, cutting your laughter off with a kiss, pulling up your dress and grinding his hips against you. He leans his head, pulling the top of your dress down roughly, and you feel a strap tearing off. You yelp.

"Oakley! You broke your gift!"

He almost growls, biting the soft flesh of your breast, making you gasp.

"It's _my_ gift to break..."   
He says, and you smile as you intertwine your fingers with his curls, holding his head against you. He pulls the sides of your bra down to lick your nipples, lapping at them like a hungry dog. The heatwave is washing over you, making your underwear damp, making your desire strong. You reach your hand down to unzip his trousers and free the straining erection, putting your knee up against the wall. He tears your thong off you, the elastic band slapping against your skin painfully, and takes his cock in his hands, rubbing it along your slit, parting your labia. You whimper, yanking his curls up to kiss him. He bites your lower lip, pulling an arm below your thigh to hold you up, easing your straining posture.  
You roll your tongue around his as he enters you, moaning loudly. You stay still for a few seconds.  
"Oh god, I missed you so much, Oakley..."

You whimper desperately, and he starts thrusting roughly, panting against your lips.

"Did you miss me, baby? Did you miss fucking me? Ah!" You yelp.

"Yes..."

He grunts, removing his hand from under your thigh, and your leg falls down – your heel clanking against the door knob.   
"Ah! There it is!" You yell, pushing him off and shiver sliding down, picking the knob up.

"What..." He mumbles, panting.

"I found the knob!" You say, tearing your knickers off completely and pushing them inside his pocket, using the moment of confusion to wedge the knob in the hole and twist it. The doors creak open as you adjust your dress. The streak of painful light which makes you squint washes over him as you stare at his confused face.   
You look at his cock.

"Put that thing away, you might hurt somebody. You have something here..." You mumble as you wipe your lipstick off his lips.  
"We're free. See you around."

You exit slowly.

"What the fuck Lydia?! Wait!" He yells, and you smile, walking on, knowing he has to adjust his trousers and shirt before following you. You reach the window seat and take your pashmina, wrapping it around yourself to cover the torn strap. He runs to you, the ridiculous erection in his trousers making you laugh as you take your mirror and a wet wipe out to fix your make up.  
"Lydia, what are you doing?!"

"I found the door knob."

"Cut the crap, what was that about?! You can't leave me like that!"

You tap his crotch.

"Rub one out, sweetie. Or do you want us to fuck right here and get fired?"

He yanks your arm, holding you to him.

"I want you.." He almost mewls. You make a pouty face, caressing his lips with your thumb.

"Aww, baby. You want me? You want to push me into a dark corner and fuck me?"  
He nods frantically.

"No."   
He digs his fingers into your waist.

"But you're wet... for me..." He tries to kiss you, but you keep turning your head. It wasn't easy, it took all of your self control to tear away from him, considering you were drenched and more than eager to have sex with him.   
You hear voices approaching you, and he lets go. As a group of students walk by, he stands behind you to hide the tent.

"Professor!" A girl yells out, and you nod, smiling. They want to enter the bathroom.

"Sarah, wait!" You call and he squeezes your arm, annoyed, leaning back on the window seat, and crossing his large hands over his erection.

"I was wondering, about that bar, is there a party tonight?"

"Uhh, I don't think so, I think it's just a regular night."

"Oh, okay, thank you. Have fun!"

"You too."

You turn around to see Oakley glaring at you. You purse your lips.

"What was that about? Do you want me to embarrass myself?"

You chuckle, reaching him, turning your back on him, and leaning down between his widened stance, to basically sit in his lap, pressing your arse against the delicious hardness. You moan, starting to grind down, rolling your hips. He groans, holding your hips and kissing your neck.

"They'll come out any second..." He says.

"I know..." You reply, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access, feeling your will to tease him crumbling down.   
"Lydia... oh god, let me have you..." He pleads, his voice desperate. You get off and kiss him.

"Take me home..." You purr, licking his lips. He jumps up, pushing you to the garden, his steps long. You see the rubble.

"No, no, I'll fall down..." You protest.

"Meet me by my car." He says, and runs to the garden. You laugh, turning around to exit through the front door of the building, almost dancing around with how proud of yourself you felt.

The parking lot was darker, and you look around. You're feeling playful still, so you take off your shoes and run to hide behind the car next to his. Hearing his steps, you peer through the dark windows, to see him looking around himself, scratching his head.

"Lyd? Are you here?"

He walks back and forth, searching for you.   
"Lyd!"

You cover your mouth and chuckle. He sighs, taking out his phone. Your eyes widen and you quickly open your purse to mute the sound on yours, but your fingers are nervous and the phone slips out, falling on the floor and – starts to ring. You peer at him. He looks in the direction of the sound and starts approaching you. You are crouching, leave all your things on the floor to move faster, awkwardly around the car, away from him, grinning.   
He reaches your phone and hangs up, picking up your things, his mouth falling open in shock, his eyes wide and afraid – but you don't see that, as you continue walking around the car to surprise him.  
You jump on him, yelling "boo", and laughing. He shivers wildly and turns around to look at you, his face bearing a terrified expression.

Your smiles wears off.

"Lydia... oh god, you scared me."

"I thought I'll surprise you – but my stupid phone was too loud, and you came too quickly-"

He just stands there, frowning, mouth agape.

"Lydia, don't ever do that to me again. Your things... oh god, I thought something happened to you-"

His eyes get watery, he swallows hard. Realising you really scared him, you feel your stomach clenching.

"I'm so sorry baby, I wasn't thinking... "  
You hug him, and he squeezes you, crushing your bones.  
"I'm going to kill you if you do that to me again... I immediately thought..."   
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just wanted to jump on you, I didn't think you'll call..."

You stay like that for awhile, feeling his heart thumping wildly.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Not yet, but I will be in a second."  
You smile, kissing his cheek.

"Prank gone wrong. I'm sorry."

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. You raise an eyebrow as he leans on his car.

"Are you seriously mad now?"

"Well, a bit annoyed, to be honest. You've been playing with me the entire evening, and I'm not sure I like it."

You smirk, tracing his face with your finger before dramatically lowering your eyes to reach the hem of his trousers and start tugging on them playfully, biting your lip.   
"Well, I like it. I _really_ like teasing you."

He grits his jaw, trying to keep a serious face, gradually failing at it as you push your hand inside and wrap it around the returning hardness. He inhales sharply as you unzip and free him, stroking languidly, coaxing the delicious velvety instrument into full erection, staring into his eyes and licking your lips. He squints at you.  
  
"Do you want to know what I was thinking about during your last class?"

No response.

"Well, do you?"

He nods slowly, carefully, his nostrils flaring. You look at his cock and frown, biting your lip before staring at him again.  
"I thought about how you said you would tie me up and tease me... make me call Richard and break up with him in order to get pleasure. And oh, _Oakley_ , I was so wet I had to go to the bathroom and touch myself. I thought about how hard you would be for me, how good it feels when you're fucking my mouth..."  
He licked his lips, his breathing becoming ragged, the heave of his gorgeous body making you slick with desire.  
"Am I boring you? I won't talk if I'm boring you." You teased, but he grabbed your jaw firmly, making you gasp.

"Finish."

You smile as his eyes grow darker, his eyelids dropping down, focusing on your face with such ferocity you suddenly felt your entire body suffused in a torturous craving to be subdued mercilessly.

"And I pushed two of my fingers inside my mouth, and two of my fingers inside my pussy and started to fuck myself, drooling over my hand, preventing myself from moaning with the image of you tying my wrists behind my back and making me kneel... while I'm dripping all over your bed, _begging_ for you to fuck me... And in my head, you did it. You thrust inside my – and at this point, Oakley, at this point I was so swollen and hot and wet I was on the verge of crawling to your office and pleading you to impale-"

He suddenly growls, yanking your hand off and turning you around brusquely, snatching your dress up. You yelp, panting loudly as he drives his hardness between the cheeks of your arse to your clit, bathing in rich honey of your arousal, then shoving himself inside you, grunting as he did so. He wraps his hand around your throat to pin your back to him, and you reach your hands up, to grab his curls, your back arching completely when he squeezes your hips to fuck you roughly. Oh the position was intoxicating, putting divine strain on all of your muscles as you felt deliciously full of his girth, the husky breathing on your ear telling you he is determined to drive himself deep into your sopping hunger and make you crumble under him.   
You breathed heavily, whimpering like a whore for him as fucked you right in the very public parking lot, and the thought of being discovered make you even louder, made your filthy compliments even filthier, your dirty pleads on how much you wanted him to handle you mercilessly even dirtier. He seemed to be completely lost to the maddening lust, drooling over your neck as he pounded into you with delish determination. You closed your eyes as the imminent buildup began developing, pulling your entire willpower into an explosion of senses, making your body shudder violently as you wailed, writhing against him – but he just murmured incoherently, holding you tighter, continuing to shove into your sensitive sex until he achieved his climax, biting down on your shoulder as he came.  
His grip loosened, and you felt your unsteady, trembling knees give in, but he leaned you over his clothed body, turning your head around to kiss you, panting heavily. You rolled your tongue over his, tasting a bit of your own blood, feeling your mind billowing with a completely new kind of high. You licked your lips and closed your eyes, trying to gather yourself. He let go of you, and you stumbled forward, pulling your dress down, feeling thickness ooze down your thigh.   
You looked at him, your vision a bit hazy as he wiped the fluid with his finger and brought it to your mouth, making you suck it. You frowned, seeing his pupils dilate again with a hunger which threatened to take you to his apartment and ravage you until you scream, taking you in every depraved, debauched manner available this evening.   
The lascivious, mouth watering starvation you felt suddenly scared you, made you aware of your surroundings, and you let go of his finger to look around frantically. When your eyes returned to his beautiful face, you saw something dark, deliciously dominant on his eternally boyish features, and your throat constricted in arousing fear. You flinched, blinking, going into panic mode: you picked your purse off the floor, leaving your shoes and pashmina behind to run to your car and speed away from him – well, from your own sinful realisation - as quickly as possible.  
The loud thumping of your heart prevented you from hearing him yell for you to return. You stumbled into your apartment, breathing heavily as you stared at yourself in the mirror.   
  
And if you had focused, you would've seen your lipstick smeared, your cheeks flushed pink with the lush post-orgasm, your eyes burning for more – but you hadn't focused.   
You hadn't even looked at yourself: You only saw his face darkening, eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring, jaw gritting... as he approached you.   
And what you thought of made your lips dry, your labia quiver, your clit twitch with a pang of desire and your mind shudder with irrational fear:  
 _He is going to be mad you left him there._


	12. Chapter 12

You woke up in your dress, which was feeling quite uncomfortable now, the alarm signalling a school day.   
You sigh, regretting not taking a shower last night, as you peel off the red monstrosity from your skin and hop in the bath tub, feeling your muscles aching a little from the strain imposed on them in your pleasurable – no, delete that – _scary_ encounter with Oakley.   
But what was about it that made it scary? You purse your lips in tiny disappointment to the lack of messages or calls on your phone while the smell of coffee surrounds the kitchen.   
Well, the sex... oh _the sex_ was hot, so hot that it makes you clench your aching thighs even now, but it was his desire that freaked you out a bit.   
Sure, he was your boy, the boy who craved you and pawed at you and showed his prowess in making you come multiple times in a row. And sure, you already had rough sex, in toilets, in the car, in _offices..._ but this was something different.   
This time, it seems he came to grips with the idea that was bothering him for a while now. _Five and a half years_ , to be exact.  
You think he even grew more, got stronger and darker in the time passed, which just added to the ominous appeal. He already admitted fantasizing about it. You already felt it in the way he took you – yes, that's the right word – he was _taking back what was his_ , somehow marking you and claiming your uttermost desires with the swirl of his tongue and the inexorable dance of his hips while his girth sizzled and laid an imprint inside your most secret spots.   
You lick your lips, staring at the trembling dark surface of your coffee.  
He figured it out. Finally, he discovered that you _wanted_ him to do it. In the exact same moment you figured it out.   
Why? Oh that part is easy. You were always fucked up enough to think you're a horrible person, walking this world, waiting for your karma to grab your neck and slam you into the floor. _Conveniently,_ when Oakley walked back into your life, and you _smelled_ the haughty possessiveness on his skin and tasted it in his juices – the sinister, debased part of your mind prescribed karma's hand to Oakley's wide, gorgeous one. And each time you made love, you teased, you unconsciously invited him to express his newfound inclinations.  
What a perfect punishment that would be. How delightfully _proper,_ and _fair,_ and _just_ would it be if the cure for your tarnished, treacherous soul would come from him... oh even thinking it got your sex sparkling with excitement.   
  
And last night? He had it on his face. The wilderness. Something controlled, yet untamed. A whip. A rope. A strong palm.  


Yet there was something inside you that didn't want to give that satisfaction to him. You still had to be his unspoken superior, the one he sidled to, the _older_ one. You screwed up last night.   
He heard your whimpers, your pleas, your need to be _brought to heel_ and fucked hard. And he loved it. He growled in your ear, left finger marks on your hips, a large bite wound in the exact spot where your neck meets your shoulder, still painful to the touch and almost bloody. Your vagina was sore, your lips were broken and swollen, offering even your tongue a sweet taste of tender flesh abused.   
Fuck.  
You should not have let go of yourself so soon – while trying to win him back.   
On the other hand, it was hard to think he will back out now, once the eager, dominating part of him had a taste of your weakness – which makes you smile. But still, you should've kept him starving a bit longer, and fight against your inner insatiable whore.   
Oh why doesn't he call? Last night, you thought he'll break into your apartment – you kind of _hoped_ he'd come and demand you.   
This could not have been a good sign.

What if he decided he is sick of you? That you're just not worth the trouble?

You shake your head. No. No. You love each other, you're put on this Earth to be with each other. You'll have your love back.   
Sighing and extinguishing the cigarette, you rise up and get dressed for work, choosing greek sandals, and a light navy blue dress which covered your neck welt. 

On the way there, you remembered you have to drop the notes on Oakley's work to the faculty, and grab another pile of forms and official questionnaires.   
Sighing, you hurried up, parking recklessly on the _dreaded,_ defiled parking lot and running up the building, thanking God you wore your flat, light sandals, so you can get to the teachers lounge before everyone else does and leave the papers there, to hurry up to your own classes.  
It was your lucky day: the room was empty, and you snatched the forms, putting your notes down on the middle of the table and running out. Just as you were about to turn the key in the lock, you felt an arm around your waist holding you tightly, and as you shrieked loudly, another one covering your mouth. A whiff of Oakley's cologne pried inside your flared nostrils, making you dizzy and relieved it was him.   
"Tell me something, Lydia."   
You mumble against his palm, writhing to make him let you go, so nobody sees you, but he just pins you to him, repeating the sexual position from last night. You quickly open the doors and you both walk inside, he leans on the doors with his back, holding you still.   
"Did you really think you were going to get away with that?"

You reach your hand around and punch his thigh with your fist. He lets you go and you spin around, connecting your palm with his cheek, so strongly you even surprised yourself – as the sound echoed the room.   
He put a hand to his cheek, rubbing it, and looked at you with a smirk.

"What the fuck, Oakley?! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Ahh, tit for tat, darling. That's how I felt last night with your little prank."

You huff, folding your arms over your chest.

"I highly doubt it, Oakley. That will be the first and the last time you ever tried something like that."

He snickers.

"If I recall correctly, you quite enjoyed the manner last night."

You feel your cheeks suffusing with blood, not knowing how to respond.   
"Well, that was different."

"Different how?"

He takes a step towards you, and you flinch, walking backwards as he approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You hold your breath, but he looks at you, frowning in confusion.

"Lyd, what is it? I just want to kiss you."

He blinks, his blue eyes gentle. You shake your head and kiss him, smiling against his lips, as it felt like you were together again.   
"My god, it's beautiful to see you in the morning." He suddenly says, and your heart skips slightly. He leans his head on your shoulder carelessly, and you shudder when he accidentally presses against the welt.   
He looks at you, his eyes widening a little as memory came back, and he pulls the collar of your dress to the side, lifting an eyebrow as he saw how serious the welt looked. He touches it with his finger, and you wince. His eyes contort into that horrible puppy mode which he knows you can never resist, and he gently kisses the welt.  
You roll your eyes.

"I suppose I got a bit... carried away. Does it hurt you?"

"No, it'll pass. It's not the first time I got a love bite from you."

He grins, before leaning over to kiss you again.

"You bruised my hips also..."  
He caresses them gently.   
"Is that all that hurts?" He asks slyly, darting a tongue out to lick your lips. You smile, saying nothing.

"Your arms? Your back?"  
You shake your head.

"Your thighs?"

His hands travel your body, eliciting an electrical response which tickles the part of you anticipating the touch. You place your fingers over his palm and guide it under your dress to your sex, making him cup it.

"This part of me feels sore..."

He moans, squeezing gently.   
"That's what you get for teasing me like you did..."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." He growls, diving his finger under the side of your knickers, finding your slit slightly damp. You gasp.   
"You liked it, didn't you?"

You kiss him, his tongue rasping wonderfully against yours as his fingers lightly play with your clit, turning you on.   
"Admit it." He says, biting your lower lip and stretching it with his teeth. You wonder how on dear Earth you ended in this position _already_ , your firm decision to pull him off his high horse crumbled into dust as he had you wet for his promisingly rough touch again.   
"Yes..." You say, flinching against his hand, afraid of how he'd react if you lied now, as you truly were still sore. 

"I'm not going to be rough like that, my love."  
He says, gently connecting his lips with yours, coaxing you into relaxation, and you moan unwillingly, immediately regretting it.   
"...yet." He whispers menacingly, making you whimper.   
"...Goddamn it, Oakley." You separate, turning your back on him, but he wraps his hands around you, holding you close as he breaths into your ear. You close your eyes, feeling hunger, love, and fear spiralling inside you as he covers your entire body with his, completely claiming you in his embrace.   
"Lydia..." He drags his lips over your ear lobe and neck, stopping at the quickening pulse in your artery.

"Oh, Lydia... how I crave you."

You hear another whimper leaving your mouth at his ravenous, sex soaked voice – so similar, yet so different to the angelic voice which issued poetry and comforting love to you. Your lungs feel like dissolving water, your skin burning with anticipation, your thirsty sex sending impulses of need throughout your trapped body.   
"Fuck, Oakley... don't do that to me..."

He suddenly steps away, and you lean over, resting your palms on the table – well, holding on to the table lest you fall down. Slowly, you inhale and turn around to look at him, his eyes hazy and expectant. You frown, almost lunging at him and clenching your body against his warm one, nuzzling your face into his chest.

"Oakley... Oakley, hold me.." You murmur, and he encradles you again tightly, while you wonder what is this sudden impulse to feel protected by him born out of.   
You look up at him, connecting your lips to his.   
The words were burning your lungs, rising to a flame in your throat, threatening to spew out. You wanted to say: _Have me, take me, hurt me if you have to, tear me apart, ravage me, pleasure me, stuff me full of your fingers and cock and take me, claim me, growl in my ears, I want to feel you trap me and treasure me, feast on me, push me down and make me yours, and never let me escape. Tie me up, fuck me senselessly, roughly, make it hurt, mark me, I want to imbibe you, I want to soak up your scent and your taste and feel nothing but you on me, in me, over me, under me, around me, and through me..._  
But thank god, you managed to keep your tongue tied and just mewled helplessly.   
"Lydia?"

"Mmm... yes?"

"It's ten past eight. You're late for class."   
He looks at you, smirking. You swallow, wiping your lips.

"You're right. I have to go."   
Stepping away from him, you bend over and pick the forms off the floor, turning around to reach the doors, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him, wrapping an arm around your waist possessively, which made you flinch and arch your body for his pleasure.

He grits his jaw, holding back a smirk, and his eyes drink up your position as you immediately surrendered to his arms, not even trying to hold yourself up.   
"Not without a kiss, darling..." He purrs and steals it, biting down on your lips and kneading them greedily, both of your eyes opened.  
He then licks his lips and lets you go, swatting your bottom. You jump and shake your head at his shiny grin, hurrying out and almost running to the safety of your lecture hall.

You barely focused, hurrying through your lesson, and dismissing students before the class was over, taking your phone.  
"Marymarymary. Coffee (or a fucking screwdriver), afternoon, anytime you can."  
 _"Haha, sure... umm, lunch, even? 3:30ish?"_  
"YES"  
You type, going to your apartment to busy yourself with cleaning, and try to distract your mind from him. Oh he must be having a field day right now, you almost implored him to fuck you.   
_Good god, Lydia_ , you think to yourself, _you're a fucking moron, everything backfired at you._  
You wondered what to do now, how to talk to him? And it was the weirdest thing on the planet, he was the easiest person to talk to, always has been, you were natural and relaxed with him, but this, this seemed to be a weird phase in which your depraved needs met his darkest fantasies, and he seemed to look like he was going to take full advantage of that.   
And what's even worse, you suddenly felt small next to him, small because of him, just wanting him to hold you tightly, wanting him to whisper that he loves you before tearing your clothes off and grabbing a handful of your sex. The thought alone evoked goosebumps, branching into a series of subjugation fantasies, which made you shudder and slap yourself to sober up.   
But on a silent, deep level – you felt this has to happen, has to be done in order to restore your relationship.   
Nevertheless, your own mind freaked you out right now – and whatever he must be thinking of doing to you made your blood freeze in your veins.   
Shaking your head, you looked at the clock, and it was 2:30, so you decide to get to the tiny restaurant before Mary does, to try to read a book, a magazine, newspapers... throwing it all aside and tapping your fingers against the table, almost jumping off your chair as she approached you.  
"Mary!" You hug her.

She sits down, and you both order food.   
"Soooo?"

She asks, amused.  
"How did it go?"

"Good! Good! I mean... uhh... no, no. It was good."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Uhh.."

"From the beginning, Lydia, stop twitching in your chair and start talking."

You chuckle.

"Okay. Uh, so, I arrived there all preened, as you know it, and he was really late. Like, hour and a half late, right? So I start drinking, talking to the bartender, who was really cute, btw., like 24-25 years old, little scruff on his face, and he basically hits on me, giving me free drinks-"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, yeah, just wonderful. And Oakley is late, and I'm starting to get really nervous, planned on going home... But he came, eventually. And holy fuck, Mary, the look on his face..."

You grin and she laughs, clapping her hands.

"Ok, so, it was perfect, he _blushed,_ for the love of God, the man who already had me about five hundred times _blushed_ at the sight of me..."

"Awww!"

"I know! He was adorable! Anyway, I just walk away from him, pretending to be drunk... which irritates him. I even try seducing him, but he is still stubborn. So I went to take a pee, walking on this shitty rubble with my stilettos, and he runs to the rescue, thinking I'm pissed, right? So I want to talk to him, now that we're finally alone – and there are all these people suddenly there, groups of annoying fucking people – so I drag him into a broom closet-"

"Ooooh, nice-"

"No, wait, wait, this is where it gets good!" You have to pause, as the waiter places your food in front of you. "We enter, and I yank the shitty door knob out accidentally! The space is miniature, we barely fit inside, and the giant idiot hits his head on the light bulb – it  _shatters_ – we're suddenly in complete darkness, trapped there."

Mary laughed loudly, slamming her palm on the table.

"Oh come on, you're making this up!"

"I'm not, I swear to God, it was sick! So, I pretend I can't find the door knob... and it's awkward, so awkward, I don't know whether to pounce him or apologise... And I jump on him, of course, making out, teasing him... He tears the fucking strap off my dress, tears my underwear off."

She covers her mouth with her hand, chuckling.

"And we start doing it there, against the wall... but, I stop, and get the knob, and run out."

"You what?!"

"Yeah, yeah, I don't know what got into me! Anyway, he follows me, yelling, with this ridiculous tent in his trousers"

You start chortling, blushing, Mary almost crying with laughter. 

"And keeps pawing at me. I say okay, let's go to your apartment."

You stop, sighing. 

"So? You did it, right?"

"Well, this is where it gets weird."

"Weird how?"

"Umm... okay, so I hid behind a car on the parking lot, to play with him, but he found my things on the floor, and the poor baby got so scared something happened to me his eyes teared up. It broke my heart"

Mary gasps.

"Oh, Lydia, why did you do that?"

"I didn't mean to! I wasn't thinking, I just wanted to tease him..."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, so then what?"

You bite your lip, squinting at her.

"What? Jesus, what happened?"

"Umm... well, he got mad. And umm, I kept teasing him, like, right there.."

"What do you mean by that? Details, young lady!"

"I kind of... began stroking him. And, uh, well, dirty talking to him... remember when I told you he changed somehow?"

She nods.

"Maybe it was the fact I got him mad, or something... but he suddenly got really,  _really_ dominant, and rough and all that..."

"Fuck... uhh, what did he do?"

"He turned me around and just... took me."

She raised her eyebrow.

"On the parking lot?"

"Yes."

"Whew... well, how did you react?"

"That's the thing, Mary... I liked it."

She grins at you. 

"You don't understand... we never did it like that. I mean, yes, in lots of ways we did, but there was something especially weird. I thought he'll break me in half. I screamed, for gods' sake, in public, and begged him... oh god..."

You bury your face in your hands, when suddenly your phone rings. You flinch and look at the screen. It was Oakley. You quickly decline the call.

"Jesus, what is he, psychic?!"

"Well, Lydia... I didn't really expect that."

"Neither did I! I mean, I hope nobody saw us... but what's worse than that, I think I liked it a lot more... than I thought I ever will. I just... I have a feeling he's all riled up and keen on doing a lot more-"

The phone rings again, and this time, you chuckle, declining the call again.

"Why don't you pick up?"

She asks.

"Because I can't talk with him right now. And besides, I'm having lunch with-"

The ring, again. You slam your fist against the button, and Mary holds back a snicker.

"... having lunch with you. The smug little shit will have to wait."

"Well, Lydia, from what I gathered, you'll pay for not picking that up."

She grins at you.

"Oh shut the fuck up. Ah. But, I suppose it is okay, this morning he was gentle, and-" 

A text message. You curse, opening it.

_"Pick up, you insolent little wench."_   
You roll your eyes, huffing disdainfully. Mary snatches the phone from your hands and snorts laughing when she reads the message, clasping a hand over her mouth.

"Somehow it's hard to picture that shiny face of his typing this dark piece."

"Oh trust me, he's grinning like a moron right now. It's the worst part, he's so smug about how... much of a slut I was."

"Well, Lydia, honey, sorry to break it to you, but you are a total slut for that boy."

You show her the middle finger, and she chuckles, as the phone rings again. This time, you pick up, and before he has a chance to speak, you say:

"Whatdoyouwant?"

He chuckles.

"Do not use that tone of voice with me, young lady."

"Fuck off, Oakley, I'm having lunch with Mary."

"Ahh, Mary. I like her. Put her on."

"No."

"Put her on, Lydia. Or I'll spank you."

You scrunch your eyes closed, sighing loudly, and handing the phone to her.

"Hey, Oakley! Fine, thank you, and you?" She pauses, staring at you, her lips slowly stretching into a smile, and then she chuckles. "Yes, I'll tell her that. "

She hangs up.   
"He says he wants you to be in his apartment, 8 o'clock sharp, and that he has to thank you for the lovely gift. What gift, Lydia?"

You rub your forehead, annoyed.

"Is that  _all_ he said?"

She chuckles.

"He asked me to not believe any of the maleficent lies you may say about Bernice."

Your eyes widen, you gasp.

"Fuck!"

"What? Who is Bernice?"

"That's... oh my god, that's the name I told that blonde twat from last week, remember?"

Mary laughs, throwing her head back.

"Oh this is going to be good. So, are you together now?"

"I don't know!" You say, leaning your forehead on the table. "Oh man... I don't know. Wait-"

You look at her, frowning. "Why was he talking to the blonde?"

Mary raised her eyebrows.

"Oh that haughty fucking asshole. I'll grill him tonight. That's it. Oh this is what I needed to hear! He doesn't get to fuck me and date her!"

"Well, I don't think he is dating her... maybe they met, or something."

"Fuck that. He is a dead man, Mary. A fucking dead man."

She chuckles.   
"You have to call me tomorrow, this is becoming my favourite soap opera."

"I won't be able to call you, for I will shove my phone down his lying throat."

  
She shakes her head at you, chortling, as you continue discussing your possible Mexican standoff with Oakley, and you finally feel a bit stronger, waiting to confront him and try to restore the balance you lost to your sudden sexual hunger.


	13. Chapter 13

You kept thinking being mad at him will protect you from being afraid and desirous. But, the curiosity prevailed, and you found yourself biting on your nails, thinking about what does he have in mind?   
You and Mary had a wonderful afternoon, laughing and telling sex stories – as your crazy night got her thinking on her own adventures. She assured you she thinks things are going well between you and Oakley, and as much as you believed her, you kept going back to the fact he seemed to be talking to the beautiful blonde. You were afraid they had sex during your weeks apart.   
Deciding to talk to him about it, you didn't _decorate_ yourself, wearing simple clothes and no makeup. It was 7 o'clock, and you jumped in your car to catch him early, perhaps surprise him and make him talk to you. The anticipation already began making you wet.   
You don't even knock – you barge in, slamming the doors behind you. He runs out of the bathroom, still wet, towel wrapped around his hips.  
"You're early!"

"We need to t-talk..." Your voice falters a little when you see him like that, standing opposite of him in the hallway.   
"I told you 8 o'clock."

"Whatever. We need to talk." You fold your arms over your chest, staring at his eyes, refraining from looking at the water pouring down his body.   
He licks his lips, walking towards you and placing his hand on each side of your head, trapping you against the wall. You swallow a lump.

"Fine. Talk."

"Oakley..."

He takes a whiff of your skin, touching your cheeks with his nose.

"Talk, Lydia."

You sigh.

"About that blonde. Nina."

"Ahh, Nina. You've met, from what I understood... and not in a particularly friendly manner. Lydia, you've been very, very insolent lately, taking liberties to do with me what pleased you..." He pressed his body against yours, plastering his lips on your ear, his hot breath rushed through you in a thrilling wave of wetness.   
"Oakley, stop that!"

You place your palms on his shoulders, trying to push him off, but he just presses harder, and you can feel his erection against your hip, taking you right to where you were this morning – wanting him to take you roughly this very instant.  
"...you're... why are you turned on right now?"

"To be honest, I was hard from the morning. I went to bed last night hard. I wanted to have you right in the faculty lounge, spreading your legs on that table and shoving into you..."   
He bites lightly at your welt, and you yelp, wincing.  
"And you, you little tease, you rubbed yourself against me, whimpered like a hungry little whore this morning. It drove me crazy..." He bites your lower lip, and you feel heat pooling in your core, making you gasp and moan against his lips, your head dizzy.  
"And I was about to relieve myself in the shower, so I can take my time and torture you... but you had to be early. How lucky for me... "  
You stop his hand from lifting your dress.  
"Oakley, cut that out. I asked you something."

"I don't care..." He tugs your hand away and grabs the hem of your dress. You push him away, irritated and aroused, and he growls, slamming you against the wall and tearing your dress off completely. You gasp, feeling even the sharp zing of fabric destroyed exciting you.  
"Oakley, stop tearing my clothes off! I want to talk about this!"

He doesn't listen to you, just wraps his fingers around your jaw and kisses you roughly. You mewl, half heartedly trying to push him, but end up removing his towel as he began biting your neck, making you horny, groping your breasts, squeezing your hips. His hands rip the clasp of your bra, yanking it off you, as he lifts you up. You hold on to his shoulders as he carries you in his room.  
"OAKLEY! You're not listening to me!" He throws you on the bed, climbing over you and cutting your words off with a kiss, while his hand travels south, to your knickers. You turn your head sideways, and he laps at your skin, leaving tiny marks with his teeth, while you pant, unsure of what to do.  
His hand dives inside the fabric, discovering just how wet your slit was by now.  
He looks at you, grinning his huge smile.  
"Ahh, how delightfully predictable..."

"Oakley, you can't just interrupt me like that and tear my fucking clothes off and throw me down like I'm your private slut and-"

"But I can. That's exactly what you are. You've made me hard, and I want your cunt" He cups it possessively, squeezing tightly. "you're so deliciously wet for me, Lydia, you're enjoying this, aren't you? I felt that. I felt it last night. You want me to take you, fill you up with my fingers and my cock."   
He begins sliding off your knickers, while you mewl helplessly, your mind going into overdrive from how desperately you starved for him to fuck you senselessly.   
"See? I didn't tear your knickers off." He snickers. You look at him, biting your lip and trying one more time to get away, squirming, turning on your stomach to push yourself away using your feet. He observes your actions with an evil smirk, before grabbing your knees and pulling your thrashing body back to him, swatting your behind harshly, making you yell out, the sting travelling all the way to your needy clit.   
He turns you around while you're still kicking, and lifting and spreading your thighs painfully, shoves into you, groaning and closing his eyes.   
"Oh god..." You moan. "Oh god... your cock feels so good..." Tears of pleasure flow out of your eyes. He looks down at you, breathing heavily, and kisses you passionately, before starting to thrust in wildly, chasing a frustration he felt the entire day. You bite your hand to keep from whimpering, but he pulls it away.   
"Cry out for me... I want to hear you..."

You whine, gasping at his irregular rams, which stretch your walls, his thick, hungry cock rippling through you deliciously hard.  
"Fuck!" You yell out, and he grabs your breasts, squeezing them, lowering his head to bite your neck again, driving his teeth in. Your eyes open wide at the pain, as he speeds up to a rhythm you can't keep up with anymore, and soon, twitching wildly, he comes inside you, sliding you up the bed with the last hard thrust, screaming out.   
Pulling out of you, he falls on his back, still breathing heavily.   
You were unsated, felt hungry still, so you shifted and laid on him, nuzzling your face into his neck, peppering it with kisses and rapid breaths, feeling your unnerved, unpleased insides throbbing with need.   
"Oakley..." You whine, moving to kiss his lips and spread your legs to knead your sex on his thigh, his chest heaving beneath your breasts, the scent of sex on his skin driving you mad with lust.  
"Oakley... I want you..."   
He clutches the cheeks of your arse and kneads them, licking your lips and nipping the plumpy tissue. "Make me come, baby, I need you..." You moan, rubbing yourself against him desperately.

He suddenly turns you both around, starting to circle his fingers around your clit, slowly diving inside you and brings them to his lips, sucking, his cheeks hollowing from the effort, staring down at you with the look that told you he knows just how much you wanted him right now.   
Coating the fingers of his other hand, he pries your lips open and presses down on your tongue, as he continues fingerfucking you excruciatingly slowly, matching the movements of both hands.   
He bites his lip at the expression on your face as you buck your hips wildly, sucking his fingers tightly. They separate with a 'pop' as he pulls them out and kisses you possessively, drinking your breaths and revelling in the way you eagerly accepted everything he was giving you right you, as he added the third finger and started curling them, almost tickling your most sensitive spots. Your breathing quickened, you wailed into his mouth, and he chortled smugly.  
"Oh Lydia, how wanton and beautiful you look right now... I could just eat you." He teased, his voice raspy and smouldering.   
"So eat me..." You manage to smile at him, and he licks your breast, kissing the way down to his fingers prodding you, and then pulls them out, to suck your swollen clit. You groan loudly, grasping at the sheets with your fingers, biting your lips as he nips on your labia and licks your thirsty sex, violently sucking your clit, reaching his tongue inside you and shaking his head fast to drive you crazy, grunting and moaning at the taste of you. You finally feel your orgasm tickling you, rising and rising and clenching you and releasing you down, to relax, while you gush all over his mouth, your toes curling, moaning languidly, your desire quenched.   
He continues licking you, while your flesh becomes sensitive, the touch more aggravating, warning you it's time to stop.   
"Oakley..." You try closing your legs, but he growls, pushing them apart and holding your thighs down as he increases the pressure on your clit. You mewl again, trying to squirm away, when he introduces two teasing fingers to your insides, making you gasp at the dangerous overload of sensations, which threatens to become painful.   
His teeth lightly bite your clit, just enough for you to scream, as the wretched desire begins building again. He laughs, dragging himself up to kiss you. You wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly.   
"I don't think I've ever heard you say my name so many times."

You just nod, wrapping your legs around him and rubbing your lips against his cheek.   
"Oh Lydia, my lustful little girl, you're not trying to kick me off anymore, hmm? You want me to fuck you hard, depraved, break you down and hold you while I'm thrusting inside your already sensitive, soft pussy, don't you?"

You whine, kissing him.

"Oh this is the proper way to fuck Richard out of your system."

"He was never inside my system, baby..."

He pulls your hair roughly, staring you down.  
"But he was inside you, wasn't he?"

You frown, trying to hide, but his knee pries your thighs open and he slaps a palm against your tender sex, making you yelp.

"Wasn't he, Lydia?"  
He shoves two fingers inside.

"He had you... his hands were inside you..." He pulls harder on your hair. "Fucking you, making you his..."

"I was never his, Oakley!" You start, yelling out when he smacks your clit again, wincing.   
"Never?"

"Oh god, never... I was never over you... you had me the second you came..."

He starts caressing your tortured flesh, kissing you gently. Your breaths are short, and rapid, you feel his cock pressing into your thigh, making you feel _extremely empty, lacking something only he can give you – wanting him to tell you you're his, desiring him to crush you inside his arms and take your last knee rattling, bone jarring orgasm from you, ravaging you and making you belong to him and him alone._  
"Lydia... " He suddenly groans, and you realise you said all that aloud, to him. Your eyes widen - you've opened yourself up to the onslaught. You exhale a shuddering breath, hitching a scream as he moves to enter you, sliding inside you with ease, holding himself up on his hands. His taut, firm body stretches gracefully over you, dripping with sweat, every muscle strained and accentuated as he circles his hips inside you, slamming inside every now and then. Your eyes soak up the veins popping out on his neck, his shoulder, pecks and abs, tracing your shaking hands over them.   
Lust grips your insides, clutching them so hard you think you'll die from wailing so loudly, die if you don't come soon. He dances himself inside you, making snake movements with his hips, so his hard cock slithers against your frontal walls. You dig your nails into his chest, pulling them down harshly and leaving bloody trails behind. He gasps from the pain and increases his thrusts, driving inside you with wanton abandon.   
"Lydia... I want you to come with me, I need to feel your delicious velvet grip around me..." He grunts, lowering his head to bite your skin, knowing it drives you wild. His pubis begins smacking against your clit as he fucks you relentlessly, and there it was, the unspoken pull to your joint release plucked itself from you, gripping your walls hard, pulling them around his cock, shooting through all of your muscles, making you writhe beneath his body. He stands still, holding his breath, and then explodes, throbbing climax inside you.   
You both yell out, clutching at each other as soon as you came down, claiming mouths and heart beats and sweaty, sticky touches of skin and sex.   
He lies on you, breathing heavily, his face down in the sheets.   
  
Time passed, it felt like a woozy eternity, when you rolled the two of you around, and rose from him. His chin was bloody – from your neck wound, which he reopened when he bit you. His chest was bloody, from your nails. Your breasts and stomach were bloody, since he laid on you. You licked the blood off his chin and kissed him, while his hands squeezed your ribcage, sliding up to cup your breasts, twirling your nipples and pulling them lightly.

You wondered how was it possible to feel yet another tidal wave of desire, but your trained tongue started sliding down his body, licking sweat and blood of the beloved skin. He groaned, exasperated, rubbing your scalp with the pads of his fingers. Your hands found their way to his member, caressing the flaccid flesh gently, trying to invite it back to life.   
"Oakley." You slide down, almost whispering his name, looking up at him and licking the entire length of his cock, the vein underneath skidding under your tongue. He hissed at you, gritting his jaw. You smiled, wiping your lips with the back of your hand and pulling yourself up to sit on him, adjusting the teased, soft flesh of your labia around the thick, but still loose phallus.   
You relaxed, sighing, and began sliding up and down the length, undulating your hips to press down and knead your clit against it, completely engulfing the slick, round head when you slide forward. You reached your hand behind you, to squeeze and tease his balls.   
Slowly, extremely slowly, you felt the thick, wide monstrosity beneath you awakening, with almost a fear of how will you take another bout of his lush craving, which does not abate, nor slow down until he drank enough of you. Oh the idea got you intoxicated, ravenous for more.  
Oakley stared at you, reading your face, recognising the thoughts, licking his lips as more and more blood rushed to his sex, and suddenly, he shot up, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tightly against him.  
"Tell me you want me."

He spoke, his voice raspy, scratching your ears, grasping your attention. You bit your lips, still playing your wetness on the hardening cock pressed tightly against you.   
"Tell me!"  
"I want you..." You moan, splaying your palms on the firm, taut skin of his back, observing features of his face.

"I love you, Oakley."  
His eyes roll in his sockets, something vicious appearing in them – rage. He lifts you up and impales you down on him, roughly. You yell out, your worn out, tender walls resonating in pain and tight, coarse satisfaction of being taken, held and pleasured, raw, animalistic.   
You hold onto him tighter, nails breaking the skin again, drawing grunts from him as you both begin to fuck each other, irregularly and uneven, every body grasping its own pace.  
"I do... I love you!"  
"Don't ever do that again!"

"Ahh! Do what?"

He grips you tightly, your ribcage squeezed to his.

"Leave me! Don't ever leave me again!"

He growls and lifts you up, shifting his legs to sit on his calves and starts driving into you again. You cry out, embracing his head and holding his cheek tightly to your breasts, while he pulls and grasps at your skin, moving faster.   
"I won't!"

"PROMISE! Promise it to me!"

He yells out, his voice almost cracking with exertion and pain, making you gasp and moan back tears, just holding him firmly. A ball of tension, a lump of love spills out of your throat.

"I promise, my love, I will never leave your side again!"

And hearing his satisfied, tired groan, you get dizzy again, your body chasing its own happy ending, joining in the rhythm presented to it, riding and swallowing the delicious hardness, your tender flesh choking on his cock, coaxing its release.   
Your sopping insides twisted and circled around the desired shaft, licking and lapping at it, your wetness increasing infinitesimally, until the critical point, the peak, the painful, mind wrecking explosion of the orgasm wreaked through your body, tightening your womb and clenching your muscles, your coarse voice screaming, and as he dug himself deeply inside you and held onto you for dear life – climaxing himself, and squeezing out the last remnants of his own tension, you felt your limbs quivering, your thighs shuddering on his body.   
You had a feeling he cut through you, wrought havoc so thorough and so perfectly pleasing – this was the moment of your death.   
You could almost pinpoint the exact moment in time and space every single cell in your body burst into its own orgasm, blistering your eyelids and burning through your marrow, leaving you done, finished, tired and sated – slouching on him, abandoning the willpower to hold yourself up.   
Oakley let go too, laying you both down.   
You wrapped your arms and legs around each other and scooted closer to source of shared breath – an osculation which no longer belonged to the waking world as you were both lulled into dead sleep.  
  
*  
  
The pain blisters your eyelids – you blink, opening them, wondering how much time passed. Half an hour at the most, since you were in the same position. You look at his sleeping face – face of an angel. If there were no tiny droplets of blood on his lips, you'd never even knew it was this beautiful boy that ravaged you just moments ago.   
You smile, caressing his cheek, deciding you'll let him sleep while you take a shower, so you shift on the bed, away from him, and limp towards the bathroom.   
As you observed the wound on your neck, dabbing it with water, wondering how long it'll take for it to heal, you hear steps in the hallway. Just as you were about to open the doors, they fly open, revealing Oakley's wide eyed face.  
"Lydia! Oh Lydia!" He yells, lifting you off the ground into a hug.

"What?"  
"I thought you left again! I thought you were mad at me and left! I thought I hurt you!"   
You smile, taking his face into your hands.

"Angel, that was a game. Much greater pain I experienced the past few weeks. As you had, years ago."

His eyes contort into thoughtful, sympathetic ones.   
"I'm sorry."

"I am too. I'm sorry for toying with you. I'm sorry I've been stupid, and afraid... and reckless. Selfish."  
He nods his head, closing his eyes. You pull his face down and kiss him. As he holds you more tightly, you wince at the pain in your entire body. He flinches, separating to look at you, his eyes stopping at the wound, the finger marks on your hips. He looks at you, and you smirk.  
"No sex for days, Oakley. I can barely walk."

He chuckles.   
"We'll see."

"I mean it, I'm fucking sore."

"Oh and I'm not?" He points to the bloody marks on his stomach. "You also pulled half my hair out."  
You gasp.

"The curls? Oh not the curls!"

He lifts an eyebrow.

"You're worried about my curls?"

You pull his head down and kiss his hair.

"I'm sorry, curls."

He chuckles, kissing your neck.

"Sorry, neck."  
Then kneels down and kisses your breast.

"Sorry, breast."

You laugh, as he kisses both your hips and your mound, muttering 'sorry'. He looks up at you, smiling.   
  
"A shower. No grabby hands." You say, tapping his nose with your finger. He gets up, pulling you to the shower and starting the warm, comforting water. You stayed inside until your skin wrinkled and you ran out of hot water, then got out.  
  
  
You sigh, walking through the hallway, and picking up your shredded dress and useless bra.   
"Did you have to? I really liked this dress."

"It's the ugliest shade of blue I've ever seen."

Your jaw drops down, as he laughs.

"You're blind, Oakley. And the red one, too, I have to saw the strap-"

"Oooh, the red one. Now for that I'm sorry. But in my defense, it was dark, and you were shoving my hands under it ... that's what you get for teasing me."

You huff.

"Oh please, you're not a fucking animal."

"We are all angels trapped in animal bodies, Lydia, that's what I've always been telling you, and we have beastly impulses which-"

"...Which we must succumb to, so our angelic souls don't get too devious by pulling all that lust onto themselves and contorting into broken, deranged spirits."

He grins boyishly at you.

"So you had been listening to me then?"

You roll your eyes.

"How could I had missed it? You repeated the mantra every week, to justify pawing at me like a hormonal kid."

He laughs.   
"Just give me a shirt to sleep in, you tit."

"Na-ah. Animals sleep naked, in the wild, under a blanket." He stops, looking up for a second. "Hah! It rhymes!" And lifts you up, throwing away the fabric from your hands, and laying you down on the bed softly, never breaking the kiss.   
You grab a clean sheet and a blanket from the bottom of the bed and drag it over both of you, as he lies on his back, pulling you across him, and turns off the light. You lay your ear over his chest, so you can listen to his heart beat. He says nothing, the exasperation knocking him out soon.   
You whisper words of love, slowly surrendering to your own weariness.


	14. Chapter 14

"...tell you something."  
"What?" You ask him, turning down the music. Oh it was a beautiful morning, even though you were sore all over your body from the wild session . You got up before him and were making breakfast and tea while dancing around to music. Knowing the smell of food and the sound will wake him up, you jumped on him the second you saw him. He was leaning on the door frame, looking at you with an unreadable expression, with a light smile.  
"How long have you been standing there? You saw me dancing, didn't you?" You say, already embarrassed, since you were fooling around with silly movements.  
He smiles shortly, before clearing his throat.  
"Listen, Lyd, I have to tell you something."

"Sure, love, what is it?" You ask, blinking, blissfully unaware of what he has in mind.  
"I... shit." He looks away, gulping. "I slept with someone while... after Richard caught us."  
You take a step back.  
"What do you mean...?"  
"I had sex with someone."  
Suddenly, the sound of the music echoes against the walls and attacks you, muffling itself and drawing air out of your lungs. You swallow a lump.  
"Whom with?"  
"It... doesn't matter. I want you to know that it was a desperate, drunken night and I can't even remember it completely. It's nothing. I just wanted to tell you, so we can get it behind us."  
You close your eyes, inhaling slowly.  
"Is it... the blonde? Nina? It's Nina, isn't it? She's so beautiful..." You mutter to yourself.  
He is silent.  
"She's... I knew it."  
"It's.. not Nina. I.. it doesn't even matter, Lyd. Please-"  
"Who. Is. It?"  
You say, piercing his squirming persona with your gaze.  
He doesn't look at you, he is wiping his forehead and swallowing lumps, sighing.  
"Charlotte."  
You blink a couple of times, your mind unable to process the dread.   
"Charlotte... the annoying bitch student Charlotte?"  
He nods, looking at the floor.  
"Oh my god" You mumble, feeling dizzy all of a sudden, turning around to sit on a chair, afraid you'll fall down.  
His bare feet slap on the floor next to you while he reaches for his pack of Lucky Strikes. You close your eyes, hearing the sizzle of a lighter, followed by a deep breath and the sound of smoke leaving his mouth.  
Suddenly, an influx of thoughts: His grunts, her chuckle, her young, lithe body squirming under him, his... his hardness thrusting inside her. You take a deep breath, wiping your face with both of your hands.  
"Oh my fucking God."  
Another influx: Charlotte who mocks you, talks shit about you everywhere, Charlotte who wants to humiliate you – in a bed with the love of your life. Laughing.   
"I'm going to be sick."  
You say, rubbing your eyes. The motion takes you years back, to your old apartment:  
  
  
" _How could you?! How could you do that to me?" You scream at him, while he is trying to pull your hands. You slap him. He frowns, closing his eyes.  
"Lyd, I swear to God, I don't remember it! Matthew told me! I have no memory of it!"  
"Oh please, you can get it up while passed out, you piece of shit! A day, you can't last a day without fucking somebody! Only I wasn't around! How can I be so stupid!" You scream, throwing a book from the table. "Get out! Get out of here!"  
You pushed him out, throwing his jacket through the window. He cheated on you with Anna, slept with her two nights ago. He was at a party with his friends, who still didn't know about the two of you. Today, in a hallway, you heard a comment about him fucking Anna. Even he looked surprised, and when you stormed out, he chased after you, following you to your apartment, explaining how he doesn't even know what happened. You knew Anna wanted him, she asked him out countless times. But this... can you even trust him? It took a good deal of two hours to calm down. He stopped knocking, but started calling you. You silenced all the calls. The day after, you agreed to meet him, not knowing how to act.  
"Lydia, love-"  
"Don't call me like that."  
He sighed.  
"Lyd, I swear to God I don't remember it. I... talked to Anna yesterday. She apologised to me, saying she was drunk and found me sleeping in his room. I have no memory of it! She used me! She's... I am so mad at her, I'm not talking to her anymore. Lydia, I am so sorry, I would never ever ever do this to you! I don't WANT nobody else but you!"  
"But you still got it up, didn't you?"  
You say, knowing it's a low blow, knowing we're not always responsible for our body's reactions.  
He frowned, his eyes blurry with tears.  
"Please, forgive me. I can't... I don't want to be without you. You're... I am so sorry. I want to make it up to you. Tell me what to do. Do you want to hit me? Please, hit me. Yell at me, and hit me, but don't leave me, please, Lydia!"  
You look at his pleading expression, he was almost lying on the table, his beautiful blue eyes huge and blurry.  
"Do you believe me?"  
He asks. You sigh, looking away for a moment.   
"Yes, I do. I am probably the dumbest person in the world, but I believe you."  
He closed his eyes, hitting his forehead on the table, before looking back at you.  
"Thank you, my love. I don't deserve you. But I swear, I am honest. I have no idea what happened. I would never do that to you knowingly. Please don't leave me alone."  
You heart constricted against your will and you slouched in your chair. He noticed the movement and quickly sat on the floor in front of your, wrapping his arms around your legs and nuzzling his face in your lap. Your eyes teared up, you realise you care about him more than you thought, and you lean forward, kissing his curls and placing your palms on his back. He rose, pulling you up in his embrace, almost crushing your body with his, before gently kissing you, your lips coaxed open to the touch you could never refuse.   
In the midst of all the dreadful feelings, you find yourself craving him. He separated, kissing your neck, peppering your sensitive spots with kisses.  
"I could never..." He says quietly. "I don't want anybody else but you."  
He continues nuzzling his face into your skin, inhaling deeply, starting out a low burning fire inside of you, his hands moving to your hips, where he pulls you against him, and connect his lips with your cleveage, darting a tongue out to taste your skin. He looks into your eyes.  
"I want only you, Lydia."  
You lick your lips, knowing full well you returned those feelings, but unable to voice them, since he slowly took the ability to talk from you, carefully pushing you backwards to your bedroom, where he laid you both down to your bed and proceeded to gently undress you, whispering to every inch of your skin he kissed, making you sizzle with desire. The thought of him cheating you dissipated from your mind as fast as the familiarity of being with him crawled back in.  
He sure left it no time as he quickly rid you of your undergarments and pried your thighs open, reaching the moistening flesh – well hidden temple of your bodily trust to him, and, looking lovingly into your eyes, kissed the wet altar, coaxing a light moan from you.   
You knew how well he prayed there, lilting words of faith issued from his sinful lips and tongue like a litany, and in such a reverence, how could you do anything but be enraptured?  
It's not a mere mortal praying there, it's this beatific angel with golden curls, making the iniquity of the act a procession of your ecstasy.   
And he beguiled it. You orgasmed, gushing all over his mouth, moaning his sweet tasting name and pulling his soft hair.   
  
_  
  
You looked at him. He was frowning, smoking a cigarette, his eyes scared and dark.  
"Did you remember it _this time around_?"   
You ask, squinting.  
His nostrils flared.  
"This is not the same situation."  
"But here we are again."  
"What about Richard?"  
"What about him?"  
"You... were with him and me the same time."  
You snapped.  
"I haven't laid a finger on him! Even before you arrived, I couldn't touch him for a month!"  
He sighed, looking down, extinguishing his cigarette.  
"I... was hurt. I was at my lowest, drinking at that bar. She came. I was falling of my chair and she offered to take me home, but instead... in the car. I was thinking how I would never be able to touch you, never be able to hold you again, and I just... I allowed it. You have every right to be mad at me. But, Lydia, you have to understand that I love you more than anything in this world."  
He sat opposite of you, taking your hands into his.  
"I am so sorry. It... there is no way to erase what happened with Charlotte, but-"  
"Charlotte. You had sex with Charlotte. A girl who wants to humiliate me. I... do you know how that makes me feel? Why her? On dear Earth, out of everybody, why _her,_ Oakley?!"  
You pulled your hands out of his, feeling sick again.   
"I didn't choose it! I wouldn't do anything at all, I just wanted to be alone, but I was drunk out of my mind-"  
"...And stuck your dick into the first hole available."  
He sighed.  
"It's not like that."  
"Of course it's not. But you could've had me."  
"I was confused! I didn't know what I was doing! And.. that's why... That's why I wasn't able to talk to you this whole time. I didn't know... what to say."  
"I feel like crawling into a hole."  
"I am so sorry for making you feel like that. Please allow me to rectify this – it meant nothing, nothing at all-"  
"I know! I know! But... I.. can't be here right now. I need a bit of air."  
"We can go to the lake-"  
"Alone, Oakley. I need to be alone."  
You rose from the chair.  
"Lydia, please" He took you by your shoulders. "Please let me explain everything, you'll see it was nothing. We're finally here, where we're supposed to be-"  
"Please don't touch me."   
You shivered, so he took his hands off you.  
"Lydia-"  
"I can't look at you right now. Don't follow me."  
You turned around, ignoring him, buttoning his shirt you were wearing completely, and taking your torn clothes and your purse.   
Opening the doors to leave, you turn around to look at his pleading, contorted expression and say:  
"Do not follow me, Oakley."  
So sharply he flinched. You hoped he would listen to you as you ran down the stairs and into your car, speeding away to hide somewhere, alone. 


	15. Chapter 15

So this was an unfamiliar feeling for you – being on the victim side of things. You spent couple of days completely blank, searching for the blame in yourself... But it wasn't there. This one was on him.  
Fucking Oakley.  
Why couldn't he keep his dick in his pants?!  
You knew he loved you. You knew he wasn't the cheating type – but _why_ was he so stupid? He is such a child!  
And that goddamned whore. You couldn't stand her. She was the definition of a slut, truly, in its worst meaning. The thing which made your blood boil is the fact she did it to piss you off. Your eye would literally start twitching with anger at the thought of her. You were wondering was it a good idea to stoop so low and do something. Oh the vicious thoughts you had... But you couldn't. You were her professor, not to mention her superior. Plus it would just fan the flames which you wanted extinguished.   
Still, you couldn't help your mind wandering...  
  
It was morning, and you put on your best smile upon entering the classroom, your eyes immediately finding her face in the crowd. She was smirking at you, arms folded across her chest. You smiled lightly and began your lesson, quieting down the rage in you and trying to be inventive.   
It worked, alright, ever since Oakley came back, it's like you came to life – making your classes vigorous, inspirational. Students responded well, you noticed that in their essays, in assignments you gave out. Some of them appointed you as their mentor for their thesis - and that was a first.   
In fact, the way you communicated with them seemed to piss little Charlotte off, she was whispering constantly to her little clique.   
"Miss Pelham?"   
She looks at you.  
"Would you mind sharing the interesting opinions with the rest of us?"  
"What interesting opinions?"  
"Well, you and your friends seemed to be quietly discussing our current lesson. I would hate to miss out on that."  
She cleared her throat.  
"Uhh, no."  
"In case you haven't noticed, we're trying to learn something, perhaps make it interesting. In case you're not here to do that, I do beg of you, indulge yourself and go out. You're not required here."  
You smiled at her and continued talking, while she squinted and held her mouth closed, obviously choking her answer back.  
When the class was finished, you were the first one out, to have a smoke and vent your frustration, but, Oakley was waiting for you out front. He jumped when he saw you, his eyes wide.  
"Lydia! Are you free? Can we please go have a coffee and talk? Please?"  
Students were storming past you, and then you saw Charlotte, gaiting around the two of you with a smirk. You licked your lips and wrapped your arm around Oakley's neck, pulling him down for a kiss.   
Chuckles of students surrounded you, and when you opened your eyes, she was already spinning on her heel and hurrying away. You chortled to yourself, almost completely forgetting you were still holding him. But when he pinned you to him, you frowned and pushed him away.   
"What... was that about?" He asked, his lips stretched into a smile. "Not that I mind, anyway." He said, leaning forward to kiss you again, but you darted it.  
"I'm still mad at you, Oakley." You squeezed through your teeth and walked away from him, holding back a smile upon feeling his taste on your tongue. You could tell that his eyes that were licking down your back were also smiling.  
Bastard.   
  
It was hard to determine what to do next, so you just kept silent, not returning his messages. He used his opportunities, in annoying ways: since you were required to be in his lectures, he would stand in front of you constantly, looking down at you whenever he could.   
You rolled your eyes and looked away, sighing.   
A child.   
Once you dropped your pen and he lifted it up, holding your fingers for an unnecessary amount of time while handing it back, smiling.   
Once he even ran to the doors to hold them open for you, grinning like an idiot. You shook your head in disbelief and walked away. He followed you around the teachers lounge, literally sitting plastered to your side. And when you would move away, he would sit next to you again.  
"What are you, 9?!" You yelled at him.  
"Yes, I am. I also miss you."  
"You mean, your cock is feeling lonely? Drought of holes to sink into?"  
You bickered, staring him down. He sighed, looking to the floor, leaving you alone at last.   
  
Mary seemed distracted, you had a feeling she was not really on your side. You complained to her, expecting some joint bitching about men, but she was not really into it, almost defending him.   
You couldn't understand it, you had a feeling she would jump on you with a "told you so" the second you said what he did.   
But she just kept trying to drag you out of your apartment.   
  
What's even worse is that after a week, your body started complaining as well. It was like that with Oakley, you two were pawing at each other constantly.   
Sure, you would go without sex for weeks while you were with Richard, but the minute the grinning jester returned to your life, your body reawakened.  
And it's been a week. And you had to run into him constantly. The one time he surprised you by jumping in front of you while you were unlocking your office, startling you – along with flinching, your clit also twitched. When he pushed past you to enter inside, the heat started to spread around, emanating like wild fire.   
You couldn't even look at him.  
"Are you still mad at me?"  
"Yes, Oakley, I'm still mad at you. Get out."  
"Is there anything I can do for you?"  
He tapped his leg like an impatient child. Your eyes stopped on the buttons straining his white shirt, on the rolled up sleeves, on the veins on his forearms. You gulped, feeling desire slither around your fingers which wanted to pull those arms around yourself.   
"You can leave this room."  
You said, trying to chase the thoughts away, trying to sound bitter. When he remained in place, you stormed to the doors, holding them open for him. He stood right in front of you. You could feel his scent.   
"Out." You said, looking away.   
But the two of you were connected. You knew the minute you get close to him he'll be able to feel your arousal, which was, traitorous as it is, making you wetter every second.   
He leaned forward, placing both hand on the sides of your head, making you look at him.   
"I miss you." He said, his voice low. It seemed like liquid chocolate pouring down your ears. You felt your cheeks reddening subtly.   
"I miss you so much, Lydia..." His buried his face into your neck, his nose inhaling your scent while his lips caressed the stretch of skin below your ear. Your eyes rolled back in their sockets as you fought the desire to pull him back into the office and fuck him senseless.  
His hands quickly found their way to your waist, travelling underneath your shirt to grasp at the naked skin, pinning you to him.   
You couldn't push him away, and he used the opportunity to start licking your neck, biting lightly his way to your throat, his hands subtly sneaking their way to the front of your body where he cupped your breasts, making quick work of pulling down the sides of your bra to tweak your nipples. You tightened your jaw, frowning, and remembering just _why_ you were mad at him, gathering enough strength to yank his hands out and push him out of the doors, hissing at him:  
"You don't get to touch me, Oakley!"  
He licked his lips, squinting knowingly at you, leaning forward again.  
"I know you want me, Lydia."   
You just huffed and slammed the doors in his face.   
_Goddamn it._  
You leaned your forehead on the doors, panting, feeling your knickers were soaked, feeling slick lust travel through your veins. Oh you wanted him alright. If only he kept his cock – _oh god, his big, juicy cock which rubbed against your most pleasurable spots –_ fuck.   
You locked the doors and waited for the arousal to wash away.   
Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to go to class and cool out as away from him as possible.   
  
Mary was gradually more annoying, forcing you to go out with her. She expressed interest in that student bar where you went with Oakley.   
"Why?"  
"I really want to see it. Come on, I want to go out, I haven't been drinking in forever. A girls night out? Please? We'll talk shit about men, do shots, and dance until we drop!"  
You sighed.  
"Mary, I'm really not feeling well. I'll be boring, I'm sure I'm boring you-"  
"You're not! Oh come on Lydia, stop moping around, it's retarded! At least get drunk!"  
You could see she'll keep nagging at you, so you sigh again.  
"Fuck. Okay. I'll go."  
She shrieked and hugged you.  
"Yes! It's going to be so good, I promise, you'll be glad you're out. Wear something beautiful!"  
She kissed you quickly and pranced away to finish her work before tonight.  
  
You stood in front of your closet for an hour, wondering what you can wear to avoid her comments, and to still feel comfortable. The red dress was out of question, so you threw it in the back.   
After shuffling through, you decided jeans are the simplest choice, the black tight jeans, which actually made your butt stand properly, for they were tight.   
Cringing, you pulled out the backless black halter top and realised you had to go braless.   
Luckily, the fabric was heavy and folded, so it completely hid the contours if you were relaxed – that is to say – if your nipples were not at attention. Which they were not, for you were not in a very good mood, and your heat seemed to be dissipating rapidly.  
You took a cab to the bar, sighing before you entered inside, locating Mary already sitting at the bar in her tight leather dress, looking beautiful.  
"I was kind afraid you were not going to show up, Lydia!" She hugged you. "I partially approve of your look tonight."  
You laugh.  
"Hey, 1995 called, they want the dress back."  
Her mouth fell open as she punched you in the shoulder.  
"I'm joking, you look gorgoeus."  
"Fucking of course I do." She sipped her cocktail. You ordered a beer and began looking around at the thickening crowd. Maybe it'll feel good to lose yourself among them.   
Mary was biting her lip nervously. You frown.  
"What is it?"

"Nothing, it just feels weird being among the kids."  
"Relax, feel twenty again." You say, waving your hand.   
"How are you feeling?" She suddenly asks.  
"Oh, I'm... I don't know. Blank still. I may not be much fun tonight."  
"Don't worry about that. Here, have something stronger."   
She offered you her cocktail, and you frown again.  
"Why are you so hell bent on getting me drunk?"  
"You'll enjoy it! Come on!"  
You took a sip of the sweet drink, rolling your eyes. Mary looked nervous still, her eyes wide. The entire thing felt rather weird to you, and just when you were about to inquire into it, she flinched on her chair and cleared her throat, biting her lip again. You opened your mouth to speak, but were interrupted by Oakley standing next to the two of you. You stared at him for a few seconds, before looking at Mary, realising she invited him, setting you up.  
"You fucking cunt." You say to her, and she awkwardly chuckles.  
"Lyd, don't hate me. It's for your own good."

"Hey, beautiful." He says and you just squint at him.  
"Did he talk you into it? Oakley, that's out of line-"  
"He is dying without you, Lyd!"  
"Don't call me like that. You were supposed to be _my_ friend, not his. He is a horny teenager."  
"Lydia, please-"   
"Don't interrupt me, Oakley."  
"Will you make me go away?"

He kept flinching like an impatient child. You roll your eyes.  
"Well you're not a dog, you can stay if you want, whatever."  
"But I can be your dog, if you want me to. I'll jump on you each time I see you and follow you around and-"  
"I feel like you're kind of already doing that."  
"Exactly!"  
Mary laughed. You pointed your bottle at her, threatening:  
"You'll pay for this. How long has this been going on? Is that why you haven't been on my side?"  
"There are no sides, Lydia. He fucked up, but look at him, he would kneel down and beg you for the rest of his life."  
"He is a charming bastard, Mary. Don't fall for it."  
You said, squinting at him.  
"It's true, I would. I'll do it now." He said and got on his knees. You shrieked. "I'll be like this all evening if you want me to. I love kneeling, really, I do. Especially for you. It's a wonderful view. I can't believe I have been standing on my feet for so long, this is much better, truly it is."  
He kept babbling and you bit your lips to prevent yourself from laughing.  
"Oakley get the fuck up, you're embarrassing yourself!"  
"Whatever you say, Lydia!" He got up, smiling at you. You shook your head and ordered a beer.   
"No, no, it's on me." He said, making Mary order another drink and paying for everything.   
He was beautiful like always, with his black T-shirt and his light jeans which always took you back to the past. Also, they made his ass look fantastic.   
"Are you going to be silent all evening?" Mary asked. You nodded.  
"You invited him, you talk to him."  
"That is completely okay, Lydia. I will listen to you say nothing all evening. In fact, I'm happy that I get to witness what your silence sounds like. I mean, not that I don't like you talking. I love you talking. You're so smart. And your voice is beautiful. I love listening to you."  
You couldn't hold it anymore, you snorted and started laughing, covering your face with your palms.  
"Was that a laugh? Did I get a laugh?" He grinned like an idiot next to you.  
"You're retarded." You exclaimed, looking away. Mary was completely annoyingly enchanted by his idiotism, chuckling and holding his shoulder.  
"Why don't you sleep with him since you seem to like him so much? It's not so hard getting him naked."  
"Lydia!" She yelled at you.  
"No, I actually had that one coming, she's right. I don't deserve her. I am a man-whore. No, really, I am. Lydia, please verify this. Try to have sex with me. Come on, I'll sit outside, follow me and try to fondle me. You can even try taking off my clothes and making me your own man-whore. There are lots of things a woman could do with a well trained man-whore."  
You rolled your eyes, not looking at him, your lips twitching with a grin you were trying to hide.  
"I'm not giving up, you know." He said.  
"She was saying the exact same thing couple of weeks ago, you know. That she was never giving you up."  
You lock eyes with Mary, squinting at her.  
"Oh, love!" He said with a glee, that voice making your heart skip a beat.  
"Don't call me like that."  
"My one and only."  
"No."  
"...Baby."  
"Oakley!"  
"Yes, love?"  
Mary laughed so loudly she almost spilled her drink.  
"You are ten years old, I swear to God."  
You said, sighing.  
"He is very persuasive, I'll tell you that much. We had coffee and-"  
"You two went for a coffee?"  
You asked, ordering your third beer and starting to feel a bit light-headed. He immediately paid for it and stood right next to you.  
"Yes, a few days ago. It was fun, although I'm kind of sick of the two of you."  
She said, smiling.

"So what did you talk about? How he is insatiable?"  
"So are you, my love."  
He suddenly whispered to your ear, startling you. You pushed him away, but he returned, splaying a hand over your naked back. You just sighing, knowing there was no way he'll move it away. The heat emanating from his skin was equally irritating and relaxing you.  
He ordered three shots of whisky. And then three more, leaning over you, constantly showering you with the smell of his skin, and when he returned to his position next to you, you absent-mindedly rested your forearm on his shoulder, listening to Mary telling funny stories from her wedding organisations. It took a few minutes for you to realise what you did, and you flinched, removing your hand quickly. He looked at you, swallowing his words, starting to caress the skin of your back so lightly it tickled you, obviously spurred on by the fact you did not push him away yet.  
"Are you two even listening to me?" Mary asked.   
"Yeah, continue." Oakley said, looking back at her, standing still again. You leaned your elbow on the bar, and when he moved his hand to follow you, it slipped to your waist, where it remained, his long fingers reaching your stomach underneath your top.   
Your muscles flinched lightly, tightening, just enough to start sending impulses around your skin, distracting impulses which hardened your nipples. You tightened your lips, knowing it would show through the black fabric, so you shifted around to try to hide it and look casual.  
He used his other hand to remove the strand of hair from your cheek and sweep everything to the side, so he can look at your face.  
"Ah. That's my cue. I do think I have to go to the loo, so if you'll excuse me..." Mary exclaimed, jumping from the chair and walking away. Could you blame her? He was inexorably taking up your personal space, inching closer to you, and touching you more and more. And for some reason which masqueraded as knowing it's useless to try to push him away, you were allowing it.  
But now, you sighed, yanking his hands off yourself and getting up from your stool to turn your back on him and lean on the bar. He placed his hands on your back and slowly made his way under your top, pressing on your ribcage, and leaning his chin on your shoulder.  
"Oakley, what are you doing?" You said, gulping, suddenly feeling strangely weak.   
"You feel divine... mmm." He moaned, dipping even further under your top to cup your breasts and pinch your nipples with his thumbs and forefingers.   
"No bra? Fuck, Lyd, that's hot."  
You shrieked, the sparkle jolted painfully down to your clit, and pulled his hands out, but he just wrapped them around you and pressed your back into him, where you could feel his hardening jeans pressing into the small of your back.   
"There is no talking to you..." You said, sighing and leaning your forehead on the bar. He chuckled, grabbing your hips and pushing into your ass. You shot up and turned around to slap his forearm. He chuckled and rubbed the skin, before leaning on you again.  
"Oakley..." You warned him, feeling trapped by his body, his hands on your waist again, his breath getting closer, making you swallow the rest of your sentence.  
"Oakley, I'm warning you..."  
"Why are you allowing this, then?"  
"You're such a pain in the ass."  
"Is that a suggestion?" He chortled.  
"No!"  
"Answer me. Why are you allowing me to do this?"  
"I'm not!"  
"Yes, you are. Why?"  
You sighed a hot, shuddering breath.  
"Because unfortunately I can't resist you."  
You looked at his lips, which were inching closer to your face.   
"So don't." He purred, the timbre of his voice making your clit twitch, and he ghosted his lips above yours, the erotic breaths mixing into a mouth watering desire to kiss. Yet he didn't kiss you, just kept licking his lips and smiling like an idiot, while yours twitched. It was a game, and you couldn't lose it. If you kissed him first, you'd crumble to the floor in front of him.   
But the desire was getting stronger, washing over your body pinned to his in lustful waves which threatened to drown the two of you.   
You sneaked your hand between your bodies and grabbed his crotch, to which he flinched and groaned – and kissed you. You smiled against his lips, knowing you somehow won. _  
And then it hit you._  
"Oakley?" You separated, licking your lips, and moving your head backwards when he wanted to kiss you again.  
"Mmm... yes? Don't move your hand." He caught your hand and kept it in place on his crotch. You chuckled.  
"A: Are you done dry humping each other?  
B: Everybody is looking at you.  
C: I can't be seen with the two of you like this."  
Mary said as she returned, staring at you incredulously.   
"Timing, Mary, is something you still have to master." Oakley said, still looking at your lips. You pushed him away and sat down again.   
"Well fuck you too Oakley, I didn't know you two are still in puberty!"  
You chuckled quietly and sipped on your beer, your new idea filling up your mind, slowly getting you intoxicated, branching into a tree of thoughts. Oh how didn't you think of it before? He wrapped his arms around you and laid his head on your shoulder.   
"Get off me." You squeezed out dryly.  
"Are we still playing this game?" He said slyly.  
"Yes, we are."  
"In that case, I won't move."   
"...might as well enjoy it while you still can." You said, staring at Mary. She squinted, seeing the vicious expression on your face.  
"What?" Oakley asked, looking at you.   
"We're making Mary uncomfortable. Sit down."   
This time he listened to you, and you pierced your eyes into his skull, feeling your nostrils flaring with the new empowerment. He raised his eyebrow questioningly, and you just pursed your lips.   
"...not even listening." Mary was saying something, and both of you realised you were not paying attention.   
"What are you thinking about?" He leaned over to you, studying your expression.   
"Oh would you look at the time!" Mary yelled, looking at her bare wrist as if a watch was there. "Time for me to get the fuck out of here." She got up, getting her purse.   
"Sorry." You said, smiling at her. She winked, caressing your cheek.  
"Be happy, my friend. Moping looks bad on you. And if it means being with this grinning bastard, then be with him." She pulled his hair playfully.  
"Not the curls!" You mewled out loud, getting out of your chair and ruffling his hair back, making her laugh as she was walking away, waving at you.   
You were standing between his spread legs, and he wrapped his arms around you, smiling at your protective act.   
"I'll shave my head if you reject me." He suddenly said.   
"Don't do that, I love your hair."   
"I love you." He said, gently, sincerely, and you found yourself leaning your head and kissing him, feeling your heart swelling up.   
"Oh, Oakley. You were right, I am as insatiable as you said."  
He grinned at you.  
"But we can't have sex yet."  
"No?" He pouted.   
"No. Let's go to your apartment, mine is shit." You said, pulling him off his chair and walking out. He was holding you and kissing your temple while you were waiting for the cab.   
"Okay. I'll do whatever you say, as long as you stay by my side. We don't have to have sex."  
"Well, _you_ certainly won't."  
You looked at him, smirking. He frowned.  
"What do you mean by that?" He said as the cab pulled over.   
"You'll find out soon enough, darling."   
Your vicious tone spread around the air as you leaned to enter the cab, seating yourself comfortably.


	16. Chapter 16

The night flew past your car windows while he held your palm with both his hands and caressed it, looking at you. You concentrated on looking out, smirking, elaborating your idea in your darkening mind.  
Both of you did not speak a work the entire ride: he thought you're too busy torturing him with silence, and you kept him thinking that, while you could hear his breathing and twitches of thinking of what to ask you.  
Suddenly, cab came to a halt in front of his building, and you got out pointing to the doors with your hand, signalling him to go in front of you. His lips twitched, but he listened to you, leaving you to admire his figure from the back, biting the insides of your cheeks.  
As you entered the apartment, he stood in the dark hallway, unsure of what to do.  
"Lyd?"  
He asked carefully.  
"Oakley. The room."  
You said, and he smiled, thinking he'll be getting what he wants. He sat on the bed and you leaned against the desk opposite of him.  
"I'm still mad, I need you to know that."  
He nodded quickly. As you inhaled deeply to give him the speech you've been preparing for days, your hand slipped off the edge and you stumbled a little, but returned quickly, realising you're drunker than you thought. You chuckled. He smiled, licking his lips, thinking the exact same thing, but with different implications. Those of _seducing you_.  
"Oh Oakley, baby. Don't lick your lips like that. I immediately imagine that tongue licking my lips. My _pussy_ lips."  
He moaned, clenching his jaw.  
"Come here..." He said, his voice low, making you tingle all over, both with the familiarity of his sexual touch and the idea you still were not exclaiming.  
You walked over to him.

"Undress me." You whispered, and he rose to his feet, hooking his fingers under the sides of your halter top on your collar bones and sliding them downwards, slowly joining the fabric together, revealing your naked breasts under the sides, biting his lips when he did that.   
You have to give it to him, it was kinky.  
"You thought about doing that all evening, didn't you?"  
"Mmm... yes. Ever since I saw your naked back. It was like... it reminded me of that time you had the... shorts on."  
You looked up, remembering:  
  
  
  
 _It was a hot summer night. Crickets still haven't shut up, going on and on the entire day. You were sitting on your window, pondering your actions. Three days ago, you had sex with one of your students._  
 _Incredible, mind blowing sex. By the pool, in the pool, in your room. In the morning, you were so sick you vomited, both from the alcohol and the implications._  
 _So you decided to hide, locking the doors to your room and hanging out alone, saying you're feeling sick. It was a most awkward situation, you didn't know how to confront him, praying to God this week ends quickly so you can return home and feel normal again. You observed them down below, dancing, swimming, having fun. Shielded by a large fig tree, you could rest, lifting your legs over the window and closing your eyes to rest your worried mind._  
 _Suddenly, the doors of your room flew open and you jumped, lowering one of your legs to the ground to prevent yourself from falling. Oakley entered, his shirt unbuttoned, his trousers dishevelled. Bare-footed, with a bottle of Chianti in his hands._  
 _"Why are you hiding?"_  
 _"I thought I locked those doors!! Why don't you fucking knock?!"_  
 _"You're hiding." He smirked, his cheeks flushed. He was tipsy. Oh, that's what gave him courage._  
 _"I'm not hiding, I'm just not feeling well."_  
 _"Liar."_  
 _"How dare you barge into my room like this? I'm your professor!"_  
 _He moaned._  
 _"You get off on that, don't you?"_  
 _You blushed instantly, staring at him wide eyed as he closed the doors behind himself and approached you._  
 _"That's... really none of your business."_  
 _"Well, Lydia, we had sex a few days ago and still haven't talked about it."_  
 _"What is there to say? It was... we were drunk and I'm really sorry I used you like that. It's not okay."_  
 _"I'm not sorry. It was the best sex I ever had." He said, his voice low, staring you down. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but you seemed to enjoy yourself just as much."_  
 _He took a swig of his wine. You blushed._  
 _"That's beside the point, Oakley."_  
 _He walked to you._  
 _"There is something about you, Lydia, that kept me dreaming about you for awhile now. And it's not just the sex."_  
 _You opened your mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say. He looked down your body for a second and licked his lips. You became aware of your camisole and shorts._  
 _"I like you, Lydia. Do you like me, Lydia?"_  
 _You chuckled._  
 _"You're drunk, you mentioned my name seventeen times already."_  
 _"Yes, I am. I didn't have courage to speak to you. And I thought I fucked things up when we had sex without me saying this."_  
 _"Oakley..."_  
 _"See, the sound of my name in your voice makes me feel so good."_  
 _You swallowed a lump, realising your heart was beating faster. You looked outside, away from him, when suddenly you felt fingers on your inner thighs, flinching when they reached your labia._  
 _"What?!" You shrieked, looking at him. He was biting his lower lip, observing his actions. You felt wild heat pooling in your core, like it was just waiting to spread around, rendering you unable to remove his hand._  
 _"I can see your sweet tasting pussy peering out of your shorts, and you don't even know it. It's making me so hard I can't even speak, Lydia." You pushed your palm against his mouth._  
 _"Shut up, my window is open!"_  
 _You said, your voice shaky with how drenched he was making you, staring lewdly at your sex._  
 _He licked your palm and pushed his fingers further, parting your lips. You gasped, moaning when he touched your swelling clit, sliding down to drown the digit in your wetness._  
 _"You like it when I do that, don't you, Professor?" You flinched, getting even more aroused at your title. He placed the bottle on the window and kissed you passionately, before licking his way to your ear, where he panted._  
 _"Imagine if I did this in class. Imagine if you were walking past me in one of your skirts, and I just pulled you by your thighs and slid my hands up, playing with your wet folds." He groaned in your ear, you could feel his erection pressing against the thigh of your leg that was on the floor as he slid two of his fingers inside you._  
 _"And that's just one of the fantasies I had. They all included you being wet, exactly like this. Your slick pussy tasted better in reality than it did in my mind." He slid his fingers out and licked them. You bit your lips, frowning, your weakness ironically making you bolder as you took his hand and dragged it back down, pushing his fingers inside yourself. He squinted, smiling at you._  
 _"You admit you want me?"_  
 _You nodded, pumping his fingers in and back out to rub around your clit._  
 _"I need to hear it, Lydia."_  
 _"For some bizarre reason, I can't think straight around you. I'm probably going to hell for this, but Oakley, I really want to keep fucking you like this..."_  
 _He moaned, throwing his head back before looking at you again, starting to thrust inside more roughly, pulling up and circling around slowly to massage you from the inside, the edge of your shorts stretched aside impudently, making for the kinkiest image serving to keep your insides seeping juices around his fingers._  
 _"Fuck..." You whimper, bucking your hips, your eyes rolling back in their sockets. And soon, your orgasm neared, threatening to sizzle your skin with filthy sweetness._  
 _"Come, Lydia. I want to feel your delicious cunt spasm around-" He didn't even finish his sentence and you writhed wildly, moaning when you orgasmed, grabbing his wrist to keep him deep inside you while you squeezed your walls around him. He kept looking at your face, piercing your eyes when you opened them._  
 _"God, you're beautiful when you're coming." He whispered, more to himself, making you smile. You leaned your head back against the window frame to catch your breath while he took another swig of wine._  
 _"Stop drinking, you won't be able to get it up, and I have plans for you, young man."_  
 _He grinned at you, returning the bottle to his mouth._  
 _"Don't worry about that."_  
 _You jumped off the window, wrapping hands around him and kissing his fine wine tasting lips. When you separated, he looked at you, his blue eyes acquiring some thoughtful hazy shade._  
 _"This... feels so natural." He said, confusion in his voice. You understood what he meant. Your being leaned into him completely, as if you two were lovers for decades. You closed your eyes and smiled._  
 _"Let me just close the window." You said, afraid of the amount of noise, and turned around to walk, but he pulled you back, and you accidentally elbowed him in his stomach. Turning around to say 'sorry', you saw him cringing, blowing up his cheeks._  
 _"What is it?"_  
 _"Fuck." He said, covering his mouth with his palm and running to the toilet. You followed him, to see him throw himself on his knees and vomit._  
 _"Sorry!"_  
 _He waved his hand behind his head to say it's okay, and continued the horrible session. You didn't know what to do, so you caressed his beautiful curls. When he was finished, he washed his face and kept stumbling, obviously too drunk to stand. You helped him, and he poured half of your mouth wash into his mouth and spat into the sink._  
 _"You need to sleep. Come on."_  
 _"Mmmpfhmyroom."_  
 _"Come on." You gently pulled him to your bed, where he lied face down, immediately falling asleep._  
 _You laid by him, smiling to yourself, quietly chuckling, and caressed his cheek. He was so beautiful, you thought. Too beautiful. You watched him for a long time, memorising every line, subconsciously realising you'll be staring at that face for some time to come._

_*_   
  
_Morning was beautiful, bright and opened and clear – unlike the face of your young lover, who was sleeping in his clothes, his mouth opened comically, face wrinkled against the sheets. A chuckle was the first sound issued from your lips, and it made him flinch and frown._   
_You caressed his face and got up to take a shower. When you were done, you took your laptop to work a little, settling yourself next to him and opening a file._   
_Every now and then you would look at him. He would inhale sharply, but continue sleeping. You left him be, considering he was sleeping through his hangover. The work soon pulled you under, elaborating programs for the summer school, and you were frowning at your screen, sighing and typing away. Turning to the side to have a sip of coffee and extinguish your cigarette into an ashtray on your bed, you catch a pair of blues observing you. You flinched._   
_"Oakley, you're awake! You startled me... Did I wake you up? The smoke?"_   
_He smiled._   
_"No. I was just looking at you."_   
_Now you smiled, feeling your cheeks blushing slightly._   
_"I need to take a shower."_   
_"Umm, I think you're in the clear with your room, Matt is down there at the pool, with the rest of them, nobody will ask anything."_   
_"Oh they will ask, don't worry."_   
_"Oak-"_   
_"I won't tell them, of course! I haven't told anybody anything! I'm not... like that."_   
_"Okay. I won't preach to you, but my career's at stake."_   
_"I know, Lydia. I would never do that to you."_   
_He caught your hand, squeezing it tightly to drive his point home, before getting up and rubbing his forehead, he must have been in pain._   
_"But, umm... can I... may I take a shower here? I would like to stay some more, if that's okay with you." He said, in a manner quite different from his predatory one last night._   
_"Oakley, I have to work and-"_   
_"No, no, I won't distract you, I just... I'll read a book or something, but I really don't want to leave this room."_   
_You slouched, feeling a wave of melting warmth wash over you, making you smile. You almost pulled him to you and kissed him like you were a couple for a long, long time._   
_"Okay then." You said, your voice unbelievably soft. He smiled and got up to walk to the shower._   
_"I already took mine." You said, before time._   
_"What? I didn't ask you to join me." He replied, throwing you a mischievous grin. You squinted at him, shaking your head._   
_"You little shit." You mouthed, and he laughed, entering the bathroom. When he got out, he had a towel wrapped snuggly around his slim hips and was wiping his curls with another one, looking delicious._   
_"You might as well lock the doors if you're going to be looking like that."_   
_"My clothes stink."_   
_"I know." You said, grinning, while he turned around and the lock clicked. "Books are in that bag." You pointed out, not lifting your eyes, to warn him you really want to work. However, as he was bent over, searching for something to catch his interest, You couldn't help but glance over your laptop and drink in his shape, especially the terrycloth-clad curve. As he turned around, you quickly continued typing. The bed bobbed up and down as he laid next to you and adjusted the pillow behind his head._   
_"Pirandello? You're reading Pirandello?" You asked, pointing to the book of plays he was holding opened._   
_"Yeah, why? Do you really think I'm stupid? Didn't I do well in your class?" He said defensively, frowning at you._   
_"No, no! I'm making an observation!" You lifted your hands in front of yourself. He nodded shortly and continued reading. You bit the insides of your cheeks to refrain from laughing._   
_The entire thing felt weird. Well, if you thought about it, it didn't really – the weird part was the fact it felt quite natural. You shook your head and continued working in silence._   
_For the next hour, only sounds in the room were the typing of the keyboard, sussurus of pages turning, and the crickets outside. He sighed every now and then, and you made a "hmm". You had to change your position, so you turned on your stomach and leaned on your elbows, which caused you to be able to look into his eyes easily – something you avoided. You both smiled and you kept staring at your screen, feeling him glancing at you constantly. Your lips were twitching with amusing discomfort of being observed, but you kept typing, pretending to be squinting your eyes with a confusing thought. When you felt it was safe, your eyes darted to the left and laid on his face, quickly returning when his caught you. You bit the insides of your cheeks to prevent from smiling or looking back at him._   
_But he kept staring, daring you, and finally, you chuckled._   
_"What?!" You yelled, grinning at him. He grinned back at you._   
_"Nothing."_   
_"Stop staring at me. It's distracting."_   
_"Okay." He said, turning a page. You looked back at the screen, trying to concentrate, but in a few minutes, you felt it again. The piercing blue distraction in the corner of your eye. You looked at him and he quickly glanced at his book. Continuing to type, you cleared your throat._   
_You closed your eyes, stretching your neck. When you opened them, he was looking at you again._   
_"Oakley!"_   
_"You're so beautiful." He said, making you close your eyes and smile, sighing._   
_"I'm not."_   
_"Yes, you are. I can't stop looking, I'm sorry. Okay, I'll try. Can I have a sip of your coffee?" You nodded, observing his body next to you. You realised you were more distracted by his nakedness and the unfulfilled promise of a fuck from last night than anything else._   
_"Would a blow job make you less annoying?" You asked, and he choked on the coffee and started coughing. You laughed as he caught breath, wiping a tear from his eye. You put your hand on his toweled thigh and slid it back and forth. He looked at you wide eyed, not knowing what to say. You were getting hot, so you took his hand and licked his thumb slowly. He inhaled sharply._   
_"You had some coffee there." You said, smirking, before stepping aside to spread his legs apart and kneel between them, caressing his thighs and slowly pulling apart sides of the towel._   
_"Lyd-ia..." He stuttered as your hand found his shaft. You lowered your head and licked the underside of hardening instrument, to which he gasped and clutched at the sheets. You loved the feel of it against your tongue, it spurred you on, so you licked your lips to make them wet and started sliding them against the sensitive head. When you looked at him, he was frowning, letting out a soft moan. You kissed the head and darted your tongue out for a quick, teasing lick, feeling you're wetter and wetter each passing second. Then your rolled your tongue around it, before lowering your mouth and swallowing the now full erection as deeply as you could, sucking loudly._   
_He grunted, his thigh muscles clenched under your hand. You pulled out with a pop, licking your lips._   
_"Do you like seeing this, pretty boy? My wet lips on your cock?"_   
_He tightened his jaw._   
_"Oh fuck, Lydia... You're so good."_   
_"Just returning the favour."_   
_You reached your other hand and slid it down your shorts, to play with your wetness, pulling your labia apart and circling your clit, as you squeezed your hand around the thick erection and began stroking it with a steady rhythm, reconnecting the insides of your mouth with it and bobbing your head up and down slowly. He almost shrieked when you moaned languidly, inserting two fingers inside yourself and circling them at the same pace. He caught the movement and almost growled with how hot it must have looked to him. Relaxing your throat completely, you swallowed him entirely, feeling the straining erection nudge against the back wall of your throat, as your fingers pressed harshly against the frontal wall of your wet pussy, making you whimper helplessly around his cock. You stood like that for awhile, until you felt his body almost writhe against you, then pulled out for air. He exhaled and fell down against the bed._   
_"Jes-fuck,mmpfhh.." He mumbled, closing his eyes. You crawled on top of him and kissed him._   
_"Delicious..." You whispered naughtily and kissed him. He squeezed your hips and kneaded his hardness against your clothed crotch, feeling the fabric moving easily from the slickness on the inside. You reached your hand down and pulled your shorts to the side, sliding your slippery folds on his shaft, enjoying how throbbing it felt under your hot core._   
_You slipped him inside yourself in a single sloshing motion, moaning pruriently. You both moved in unison, feeling your arousal peaking. He grabbed your hips and moved you on top of him, fucking up into you. You could barely stand looking at the veins on his lower stomach and arms popping out from the strain. His cock was thick and stretched you like no other before, and you found yourself craving the feeling more and more, since your lustful little cunt fell in love with the feeling of being fucked thoroughly by such a juicy, fat cock._   
_Oh the thought was filthy, it invoked all sorts of dirty, sweet delectations inside you, getting you closer to your orgasm. Oakley was biting his lower lip and focusing his eyes on the joining point between the two of you, seemingly completely lost with the lustful image. You reached your hand to it, stretching your two fingers to press on your labia, around his cock in a V-motion, using the press of your palm on your clit to invoke your orgasm, which hit you suddenly, making you gasp and moan so loudly it sounded like a whorish scream._   
_He came shortly after you, pulling your body to lay on his. As you came down and moved off to lay on your back, he pulled out of you – making you realise he came inside you._   
_"Fuck!" You suddenly yelled out. He looked at you and understood it._   
_"Shit, I'm so sorry!" He jumped on his knees and looked at you, horrified. You flailed your hands, your mind going into overdrive. "Fuckdamnit it all! I'm so stupid!"_   
_"It's my fault, sorry, sorry, what can I do?!"_   
_"No... it's, I'm mad at myself... it's okay. Uhh... I don't... the morning after pill!" You yelled out, getting up to clothe yourself._   
_"Pharmacy?"_   
_"Yes, I have to go now."_   
_"I'll go with you, let me take clean clothes."_   
_"No... you don't have to."_   
_"I do, Lydia. Wait for me."_   
_He jumped off, wrapping the towel around himself and carefully opening the doors, checking both sides of the hallway. He came back in a couple of minutes, his eyes so wide and worried and guilty it made you smile._   
_"Lydia, I'm so sorry, I was just so caught up in the moment I didn't..."_   
_"It's okay." You said, walking over to him and caressing his face. "It's going to be okay."_   
_"Please don't be mad at me."_   
_"I was caught up in the moment too."_   
_You smiled, and he grabbed your face and kissed you._   
_"Let's not forget ourselves in the future." He said, kneading your lip with his thumb._   
_"In the future?" You asked, half teasing him, and half genuinely surprised._   
_"Oh yes. I'm still hungry of you..." He said, making you twitch in anticipation. You bit his thumb and swirled you tongue around it. He frowned, moaning lightly, and dragging his thumb out to kiss you passionately. You moaned back, feeling hot waves washing over you, but separated, shaking your head. He chuckled._   
_"Sorry."_   
_"I can't be trusted around you." You said honestly._   
_"So, you like sexing me?"_   
_You laughed, hitting his shoulder._   
_"Let's go, moron. No, wait, meet me at the gates." You said, letting him walk out first, then waiting awhile before running out to the blistering sunshine, walking through the garden to the gates of the little scenic hotel, which were farther away, calling a cab to come pick you up._   
  
_*_   
  
_You didn't know which excuses he was making up to his friends to explain his absence every night and almost all days long, but you were enjoying being with him in this soft, sunlit haven in Italy far too much to complain. Going out with everybody was the worst, you couldn't touch or kiss him, and both of you kept throwing glances at each other._   
_Slowly, the last week of your holiday came to its end, and as everybody sobered up and faced departure back to your homes, you felt a strange feeling of guilt creeping up your spine._   
_It enhanced as you were nearing England, not being able to sit next to him, rest your weary head on his shoulder, something you desperately felt like doing._   
_But you couldn't help it. As you were walking out of the aeroplane, you realised you were falling in love with him along with falling in guilt with yourself about that. It seemed like a relationship doomed to fall apart even before it started._   
_You looked to the floor as you greeted everybody, avoiding looking at him, and dragged your suitcases to the front of the airport, to catch a cab home._   
_"Lydia, wait!" You heard him call as you waited for your ride._   
_"Hey." You said, looking behind him._   
_"Nobody's here. I said I'm going to visit a friend." He smiled happily, obviously intent on going with you._   
_"Oakley..." You said, sighing._   
_"What?"_   
_The cab arrived, and as the driver placed your bags and suitcases inside, you fumbled with your fingers._   
_"Oakley, I... am not sure that's such a good idea."_   
_"What? Me going with you? Oh come on, nobody is going to see us!"_   
_"It's not about that... this entire thing... I think it was a summer... escapade."_   
_He blinked, the hurt on his face obvious. You immediately regretted your choice of words._   
_"That's... what it was? Well, it... It seemed like something a bit more than that. To me, at least."_   
_He shrugged, looking like a hurt child._   
_"Oh no, baby, I didn't mean it like that. I... it's illegal."_   
_"All the best things are."_   
_You smiled._   
_"I just think... there's too much at stake."_   
_"Excuse me, miss, mister, am I taking the other set of suitcases in the car?"_   
_The driver asked, and Oakley looked at you. You knew what the answer meant. You knew that, if you said 'yes', it would mean you two are continuing. No matter what you added next to that 'yes', it meant your escapade is going to last._   
_It was written all over his eyes, his opened mouth, the tension in his frame. He wanted you to say 'yes' so badly he held his breath in anticipation._   
_The angelic boy needed you to say yes._   
_And how could you, in your hungry heart, in your thirsty body, say no to the nutrition just waiting for you to claim it behind those gigantic blue eyes?_   
_The driver repeated his question, somewhat annoyed. You smiled widely._   
  
_"Yes."_


	17. Chapter 17

_He couldn't keep a grin off his face the entire ride to your apartment – you rolled your eyes and looked out the window, to hide your own smile. He kept caressing your palm with his long fingers._   
_It was different in the grey air of your home. It felt more weird, more awkward._   
_But you had to time to reflect on that as you took your heavy bags up and unlocked the doors, letting him in. The double set of suitcases seemed too large for your little apartment._   
_You sighed, placing your hands on your hips. He immediately started walking around and observing your personal things, which made you a bit uncomfortable. He picked up the photo of you and your brother. You flinched, taking it from his hands._   
_"Boyfriend?"_   
_"Brother. He died when I was in highschool."_   
_"Oh my god, Lydia, I'm so sorry."_   
_"It's okay."_   
_He hugged you tightly, holding your head to his chest. You closed your eyes, relaxing._   
_"I won't pry, but... you can talk to me whenever you want to." He mumbled quietly._   
_"Thank you, baby."_   
_You realised you haven't hugged him since Italy, and as your heart began beating faster, you realised just how much you wanted to do it. You held him more tightly, frowning against his chest._   
_And then you realised you called him "baby", which made you cringe, since you didn't know when was it exactly that you became so relaxed around him that you just needed to feel his scent close to you. It just happened. The feeling snuck upon you, drawing its invisible stems under your skin, so tightly you felt them pulse in your arms wrapped around his waist. You didn't want to let go._   
_He massaged your scalp with his fingers, lulling you in._   
_"I missed you on the train and the flight." You said quietly._   
_"I missed you too."_   
_The air was gloomy, dark and stale in your unvisited apartment. Silence was weighing on you, making it increasingly difficult to try and lift your eyelids._   
_"Oakley? I'm really tired. I think I'll sleep some."_   
_"Okay."_   
_"Are you okay with that?"_   
_"Yes, I'm tired as well."_   
_"We'll talk when we wake up. I'll call you."_   
_He separated, looking at you. You opened one eye._   
_"What do you mean?"_   
_"I have you number, I'll call you when I wake up, or text you, and we'll see." You said, not knowing what he meant._   
_"But... why can't I sleep here?"_   
_You chuckled wearily._   
_"I... I assumed you'll want to return to your dorm room if we don't... have sex."_   
_He closed his eyes and sighed._   
_"You're freaking insane. I'm staying here."_   
_"Okay then" You said, smiling, and laying your head back on his warm chest. You stood like that for awhile._   
_"Lydia? We can't sleep standing up."_   
_You chuckled, turning around and pulling his hand, taking him to your room, where you undressed and tried to get your pyjamas out of the closet._   
_"No, no, come here." He said, laying on the bed completely naked. The image was alarming, him naked in your bed in your apartment, and not Italy - it felt weird, but as you were tired, you dismissed the thought, leaving it for later, and stripped down yourself, joining him. He held you against him, while you intertwined your limbs, the shared warmth making you so sleepy and safe you just pecked his neck and quickly fell asleep._   
  
_*_   


_It took awhile to focus your eyes, awhile to recognise the ceiling as the one belonging to your apartment, the grey air as that of England, instead of the bright Italy one. You inhaled, stretching, and then remembering Oakley was supposed to be by you, yet he wasn't. Your hand touched a large paper, which read:_   
_"Welcome to the waking world, Lydia. This is a message informing you you've slept for five decades and are now in the post-apocalyptic reality. Your room is the only one remaining unchanged, as ordered and paid for by Mr. Brigham, our wealthy sponsor, who died recently due to broken heart, which began cracking already when he couldn't wake you up after the mystery trip under the codename "The Italian (blow)job" and had to live alone with erections the size of the Big Ben for the next fifty years. And fuck, Lydia, you woke up too late, the man is dead and buried. Although, you can try and reach his hologram, currently unpacking in the astral projection of his dorm room, after a delightfully nauseating conversation informing the undead demon of his father he will not be coming home for the rest of the holidays, but will rather keep his technicolor projection next to your human being. Message over. Thank you for reading."_   
_You were laughing loudly, covering your face with your palm, when you heard noise coming from the hallway. You jumped out, pulling your light silky robe over yourself and opened the doors, seeing him pulling the suitcase to the doors._   
_"Oakley!"_   
_He grinned._   
_"You're awake! Did you see the message?"_   
_You jumped on him, knocking bags off his shoulder and kissing him._   
_"You had me there for good five seconds, it had a good start, but you fucked up in the middle."_   
_"Oh no, it took awhile to think of what to write, what with you naked on the bed and all."_   
_"Why didn't you wake me up?"_   
_"I didn't want to, you were sleeping tightly."_   
_You kissed him again, realising the sleepiness wrapping your limbs is giving way to arousal snaking under your skin, making your core hot. Your nipples were pressed against his shirt, and the friction gave wonderful jolts to your body. Oh he felt wonderful, with his slick lips, his stubble lightly grazing your skin, his palms digging into your back. You moaned._   
_"I have to go, I already told Matt I'm coming."_   
_You separated, licking your lips._   
_"Can't you stay for a cup of coffee, at least?"_   
_You said, not revealing your lewd intentions. You wanted to strip all clothes off him and rub your body against his. You wanted the said Big Ben-sized erection fuck you lazily, slowly, sleepy like you felt, until it woke you up – and then you wanted him to fuck you hard, so you can moan and clutch at him. But how does someone ask for that?_   
_"No, sorry. I really have to do this, call my father. I haven't even began telling you what a fucking prick that man is. I just want to get it over with." He sighed, rubbing his forehead._   
_"Oh, okay then." You held your hands behind your back to keep from pulling at him, twisting the ball of your foot on the floor, understanding he was really bothered by this._   
_"I'll call you." He said._   
_"Ahh, the despicable sentence." You smiled._   
_"I will call you, Lydia. Have no doubts about that."_   
_"I know, I'm just joking. Hey, don't be in a bad mood."_   
_"You'd be too, if you had to talk to him."_   
_"Oh baby..." You said, seeing his beautiful face frowning with worry, and you took it into your palms, peppering every wrinkle with a kiss, finishing on his lips. He smiled._   
_"There we go, sunshine smile looks so much better on you."_   
_"You're unbelievable" He said and grabbed you tightly, kissing you. You stopped it before it sent waves of arousal over you again._   
_"Go now, take care of it, rest well. Call me when you have some time, I have a week before work."_   
_"Oh I think it'll be sooner than that." He said, smirking. "Okay, see you... around." Shyly smiling all of a sudden, he leaned and kissed you again, sighing._   
_"I wish you could stay..." You said, looking at the floor, blushing._   
_"Oh god. Don't do that to me." He lowered his bags and pulled you to him, seizing your lips frantically. This time, they weren't waves. It was a sharpened jaw of teeth of arousal biting into your entire womb. You whimpered and immediately opened your eyes, afraid he'll figure it out. You didn't want to keep him around because of your sexual selfishness, he had things that needed to be done._   
_He separated, squinting his eyes just a tiny scrutinising bit, and you bit your lip, trying to clear your throat and straighten your face – that whimper was just a tad too slutty._   
_"Sorry. Come on, do your thing. If you need anything, you have my number. Go!" You were pushing him out, and in the process didn't even realise one of the sides of your robe opened, revealing a breast. He stood in front of your apartment, inhaling sharply when his eyes landed on it. You chuckled and pulled it together._   
_"Fuck." He said, licking his lips._   
_"I'll text you!" You yelled loudly and blowing him a kiss, closed the doors to his face, afraid you'll pull him right inside if his eyes continued to fuck you with their intensity. You turned the lock, sighing._   
_Shaking your head, you went to take a cold shower._   
_It didn't help, not really. The thick stream eventually made way to the apex of your thighs, the cold water teasing you even more, and you chuckled to yourself, hurrying out._   
_You opened all the windows to properly air the place, and went to buy groceries, your refrigerator was completely empty._   
_The slightly rough texture of your shirt was rubbing against your pebbled nipples, making you realise it was not a good idea to run to the store braless, even though it was just outside your building._   
_Making yourself a quick meal, you decided to watch movies instead of working. That can wait for another day. You indeed calmed down, losing yourself to the plots, smoking half a pack of cigarettes. But since you took a nap in the afternoon upon arriving, you were not sleepy yet, so you decided to drink a glass of two of wine, while continuing to stare at the screen. What you didn't expect is, just when the light-headedness kicked in, was to love scene in the movie to turn you on. You bit your lip and crossed your legs, smirking to yourself. Fuck. Perhaps another glass of wine might help? You rose to pour it, but as you leaned over the kitchen table, you grazed your crotch on the corner of the table and flinched, chuckling. You stopped, looking at the light fabric of your panties scrunched up against the wood, and bit your lip, starting to grind against it. After a couple of seconds, you realised what you were doing and separated, walking to your room and retrieving the vibrator which laid in a box under your bed. As you held it, cleaning it, you were painfully aware of how narrow it seemed now, in comparison to Oakley's girth._   
_Oh Oakley... your mind went back to the sex scenes with him, arousing you further. He was the cause of this... a sweet, delicious cause of this._   
_You returned to your couch and leaned back, kneading your breasts, and teasing your nipples. You played with your folds, which started to leak your frustration, the tight ache in your womb alarming you you wanted to fuck, and soon._   
_This made you think of him. Was he okay? What if his father made him feel horrible? You took your phone, typing:_   
_"Hey, are you okay? Just checking!"_   
_A few minutes later, the answer arrived._   
_"Lyd! Yeah, a bit annoyed, but I'm fine. I'll tell you all about it."_   
_"Okay then." You paused, not knowing what to say. "Unpacked?"_   
_"Not really, I'm lazy that way. Just took a shower. What are you doing?"_   
_You imagined him washing his beautiful body, rubbing all of the parts you wanted to rub, the water dripping down him... You moaned, pulling your hands back inside your panties, rubbing and sliding in and dragging the wetness around. Another message arrived._

_"Are you one of those people that type super slowly?"_   
_You chuckled, taking your phone, wiping your hand, and biting your lip._   
_"No, it's just hard to type with wet fingers."_

_You put it down, anticipation thrilling your even more, and you continued lazily teasing yourself, thinking of his reaction._   
_"Was that some sort of a pun, a typo, or is my mind that dirty?"_

_"A pun you'd understand, typos I don't make, and your mind is not dirty, it is filthy and I love it."_   
_You waited, smiling to yourself._   
_"What are you doing, Lydia?"_   
_You realised he was still being careful not to sound too weird, thinking you're just joking, but the mention of your name (he always overused it when he was getting aroused, that much you've noticed in the past week of sleeping with him) revealed he wondered... and oh my, he was right. You were downright drenched by now, turning on your vibrator and pressing it against your sensitive folds, shrieking with the wonderful feeling._   
_Your phone rang just as you glided it inside yourself. You picked up._   
_"Hey there, you're not answering me!"_   
_"Oh come on, it's been a minute." You bit your lip, your breathing increased as the vibrations shivered through you. You closed your eyes and smiled._   
_"So anyway, what ARE you doing?"_   
_"You really want to know?"_   
_"Yes..."_   
_"Imagining your tongue wiggling inside me. And the vibrator is not helping."_   
_You heard a sharp breath in your phone._   
_"Oh Oakley" You said before he had time to answer you "I've been so turned on ever since I woke up, but didn't have the heart to keep you here. I can't help it, I need you... to..." You were panting as your arousal peaked._   
_"Fuck, Lydia... are you really... shit, are you really touching yourself? You're not messing with me?"_   
_You moaned loudly._   
_"Why don't you come over and check?"_   
_"Oh Lydia I was already putting on shoes when I called you, I'm waiting for the bus right now."_   
_You laughed._   
_"Oakley... come soon, I'm craving you..."_   
_"Lydia..." He said, and you hung up, pressing your vibrator against your frontal walls and then dragging it out, wanting to tease yourself as much as possible. How long could it take for him to get here? Fifteen, twenty minutes? It seemed like an eternity in which your desire was dripping out of you. You discarded your clothes and were playing with yourself, closing your eyes, when you heard a door bell. You rose, realising he's here, and inhaling sharply as you ran to the doors, opening them. His face was wide as he pushed you inside and kissed you passionately._   
_He separated, looking at your naked body._   
_"You weren't lying to me..."_   
_"I wasn't." You bit your lip. He continued making you walk backwards to your room and then pushed you on the bed, yanking off his shirt and trousers with the speed of light, before lying on top of you and licking your throat. You mumbled, having already been edging yourself almost the entire day._   
_"What was it? You wanted me to lick your pussy?"_   
_You groaned, the dirty words sounded so delectable in that beautiful voice of his, while he kissed down your body. He bit your nipple, making you shriek. He laughed._   
_"I love it when you get like this, it's making me so hard. Do you want me?"_   
_"Oh god yes, I've been... Ah!" You shrieked when he suddenly spread your thighs apart roughly. He was staring at your sex, licking his lips, a motion which currently drove you wild with desire._   
_"Mmm, so wet." He licked your slit slowly, and you moaned, clutching at the sheets._   
_"Your pussy is beautiful." He purred, making you crazy. How can he say such things?_   
_"Especially slick like it is now." He slurped loudly, flicking his tongue over your clit. At this point, you were mewling incoherently._   
_"Shut the fuck up!" You yelled, laughing at yourself. He chuckled._   
_"You like it, don't you, the dirty talk? Is it making you more wet? That's the goal. I want your delicious" Lick. "Sexy" Lick. "Luscious" Lick. "It's driving me wild, the taste of it. I'll make you come like this, I want your taste all over my lips and chin, you beautiful woman."_   
_You screamed now, you couldn't believe him, so you just grabbed his curls and yanked his face to your wet skin._   
_"Shut up already and lick me!"_   
_He chuckled, his teasing blue eyes looking up at you so intently you almost wanted to get away, like you couldn't bear someone like him saying all that to you, it was too perfect._   
_"Look at me while I'm sliding my tongue inside you."_   
_You did as you're told, concentrating on his widening pupils. He circled your opening with his tongue before driving it in as deep as he could and breathed hot breaths in your folds. He didn't even manage to pull it out, and you came, arching your back and moaning loudly, feeling yourself gushing all over his face, his tongue still inside you while you spasmed divinely._   
_You fell down to the bed, breathing heavily. He climbed on top of you and kissed you, grinning wildly._   
_"Oh that was... Christ, where did you learn how to do that?"_   
_"Porn."_   
_You laughed._   
_"Must be some high class porn, with words as classy as that."_   
_"I wasn't lying."_   
_"Oakley..."_   
_"It tastes deliciously. And you're beautiful when you're coming. I want to have you unravelled as long as possible..."_   
_You turned your head away._   
_"Goddamn it..."_   
_"I'll keep on saying it. You're too horny to kick me out now."_   
_You growl at him, turning you both around._   
_"And would you like the hardness pressing into my thigh to be inside the... I can't even repeat everything you said."_   
_He chuckled, biting his lip._   
_"Yes, madam."_   
_"Fuck you!"_   
_"Oh please do."_   
_You bit his neck, and he moaned. Oh that voice was to die for._   
_"The condom, Oakley..." You said, before you lost yourself._   
_"Shit."_   
_"You didn't bring the condom?"_   
_"I hurried out! Don't you have it?"_   
_"No, I just bought groceries..."_   
_"Shouldn't a condom be on that list?"_   
_You laughed, before mewling._   
_"Oh no, no..."_   
_You were a bit desperate now, and breathed heavily against his neck. He was silent. But then you rose and straddled him, pulling him up in a sitting position and taking the width of his erection inside your palm._   
_"Another time, then." You said, biting your lip. He closed his eyes, enjoying the stroking, before looking down at what you were doing, biting his lower lip when you scooped your own wetness and used it as a lubricant._   
_"I thought about how I'll have to buy a new vibrator, since I'm addicted to how wide you're stretching me."_   
_He moaned._   
_"Tease..."_   
_"I loved it, Oakley. Your cock is so thick it reaches exactly into that spot of me which makes me hungry for you. I love how both my insides and my mouth choke on it, and when you come, how it throbs, making my pussy slicker, and my mouth water for more."_   
_He was the one in rapture right now, frowning and staring into your eyes, before looking away. You loved the fact you were enable to invoke that in him, the weakness._   
_"Would you like to come on me? My stomach, my breasts, my lips?"_   
_He growled, clenching his jaw and looking almost menacing._   
_"Lydia..."_   
_You kissed him, stroking him faster, pulling yourself closer so that your sex was almost pressed against his and hissed at the closeness._   
_"I'll find everything that gets you hot and do it. In fact, I think I like the feeling of your cock inside my wet cunt so much I'll get all means of birth control so I can have you thrusting roughly anytime I want to. Come for me, baby. I can feel you throbbing."_   
_He growled again, cupping your arse and squeezing it hard as he exploded, his hot cum spilling out and sliding down your stomach into the hairs on your sex. You moaned for him, looking at his eyes plastered at the dirty picture, panting heavily and clutching your skin. You wiped the white fluid slowly off yourself and brought your fingers to your mouth. He followed the slow movement, unable to look away as you darted a tongue out and lapped at it lewdly. He frowned, his jaw dropping down._   
_"Fuck..." He mouthed, lost for words. You smiled._   
_"Did you mean it? About the birth control?"_   
_"Of course, this is getting out of hand. Ha! A pun."_   
_He grinned weakly, as he was still trying to come to his senses._   
_"Are we tired?"_   
_"We're always tired."_   
_He replied, smiling._   
_"Sleep?"_   
_"Sleep."_   
_You smiled, getting off him to take a tissue and wipe your hands and stomach, before he pulled you back into bed with him. You nuzzled into his chest and threw a leg over him._   
_"I like this sleeping over, Lydia. The sleeping together too." He said quietly, embracing you. You closed your eyes and sighed._   
_"Me too, Oakley, me too."_


	18. Chapter 18

_Two weeks have passed. And oh Lord, what two weeks they were. He was practically living in your place, since you two seemed unable to be away from each other. You had some work to do – at home, so you rarely went out, preparing to start your summer school lectures, before the academic year starts._   
_He would run out to do whatever he needed to do, making whatever excuses to his roommate he was making, then run back to you. It's how young love was, it felt like that, you were hungry of him, constantly orbiting around his presence, and looked with a warm heart on his subconscious movements: he would always touch at least one part of you: a hand, absent-mindedly flicking his fingers over your shoulder, holding his head in your lap when you would work. It seemed dreamy, still apart from this world, from your everyday functioning, so your mind allowed it._   
_And the sex... oh god, the sex was incredible. At some point, you almost convinced yourself that's why you two were dragging around – because of fucking._   
_But there was something else, you seemed to be at peace with him, he was calming you down as much as he was riling you up. Every single flaw on him seemed adorable to you. One time he found your vibrator, when he was getting a pen off the floor in your bedroom and saw the box under your bed. He came into the kitchen where you were making tea, holding the object with disdain on his face._   
_"What is this?"_   
_You laughed._   
_"A vibrator, Oakley. An object used by women, and well, some men, to please themsel-"_   
_"I know what a vibrator is. You own one?"_   
_"Obviously I do."_   
_"Why?"_   
_"Uhh... to have it serve its purpose of helping me please myself?"_   
_"Yeah, but... why... am I not enough?"_   
_You laughed._   
_"Are you fucking kidding me?"_   
_"No, Lydia, I am not."_   
_He looked seriously hurt, blinking his eyes repeatedly, his face cringing into this awful puppy dog pleading expression which made your heart ache. But the matter was laughable. You couldn't believe he said that._   
_"It's not about you, Oakley. I had it before you. It's an entirely personal object, I really don't see how would that exclude you on any level."_   
_"But... are you not satisfied with... with my..." He almost stuttered, his cheeks blushing. You couldn't take it anymore, you walked to him and wrapped your arms around his neck._   
_"My beautiful boy, I am more than satisfied with you. And your cock."_   
_His face twitched at the word._   
_"You know that. So don't be such a sourpuss saying such things or I will go seriously feminist on your ass. I will not get rid of that vibrator, and you're a fool if you think that makes you look bad. If anything, it's a proof of how much I want you, using it to relieve myself off tension when you're not around. Now, I've already said too much, and you're bound to use it against me at some point, so I suggest we leave the matter be – go put that back where you found it."_

_He smiled, nodding his head.  
"Okay. I can live with that. I was just... I thought I didn't do well. So... you seriously want me that much?" He asked cockily, raising his eyebrow and smirking. You rolled your eyes – you knew he'll use that.  
"Just put it away."  
You heard a buzzing sound. He turned it on and pressed it against your sex, over your tights. You yelped, stepping away, but he placed a hand on your lower back and held you tightly while he applied the pleasurable vibration back to the apex of your thighs.  
"Oakley!" You yelled, trying to push him off, but he laughed, holding you in place. The quivering was getting to you as always, warmth spreading around your womb. Finally you pulled his hair roughly, and he yelped, letting you go.  
"Idiot!"  
"Show me how you do it." He offered the vibrator to you. You shook your head.  
"You're insane. No."  
"I want to watch you."  
"No." It seemed too personal to you, you still had several levels of trust to gain before exposing yourself like that.  
  
*  
  
_ "Yes, I do remember that. That Italy... if it weren't for that, do you think we would ever end up... where we were?"  
"Of course. I just needed to gain courage. I knew you were special to me the first second I laid eyes on you."  
"Don't sidle to me to make me less mad, Oakley."  
"Well, I am saying that to soften you, but I also actually mean it."  
You remembered the intensity of expressions he used when he talked to you even the first couple of times you were alone, it was almost scaring you. Especially when he was drunk and said whatever was on his mind. You nodded your head, and he returned his hands to your breasts, flicking his knuckles over your nipples, sending sparkles of arousal down to your sex. You bit your lips.  
"Oh why did you have to fuck her? I will miss your cock."  
He frowned.  
"Oakley, you are to be punished. It disgusts me so much I want to vomit."  
He looked to the floor.  
"I understand."  
"But I can't keep away from you. I mean, look at me, I want to beat the crap out of you, and here I am, in your room, with your hands on my naked breasts. I've been aroused these days, you know I have. I can't go around like that. I need to be relieved off the tension. But I can't have that cock inside me yet, it's sickening to think where it's been." You shuddered with disgust.  
"I am so sorry." He whispered, frowning.  
"Undress me. Make me come. I enjoy your touch more than anything else..." You said drunkenly, feeling pangs of arousal click through you.  
He inhaled sharply, undid your halter top at the neck and pulled it off. Your breasts peaked out, begging for attention, and he gave it to them, massaging and kissing every expanse of skin, before pushing you to lay down on the bed slowly. As he was unzipping your jeans, he licked the trail presented to him, and pulled them off, leaving you in your knickers. He kissed the fabric, dragging his stubble up and down, teasing you. You grunted.  
He suddenly dived his fingers under the side and pushed them inside you. You jumped up, whimpering. Taking your clit between his lips, he sucked, slurping and panting against your slippery skin, simply holding his fingers inside, ever so gently pressing against your walls. You were still in awe of what effect it had on you. You clearly remembered thinking such passion will dissipate after the first month – but it never did. Not in the first five months, not during five years apart, igniting when he returned, lasting through all of the bullshit you did to each other, and still going strong, renewing itself in the most inappropriate of moments. You were almost surprised at how well he seemed to know your body.  
"Oakley..." You moaned, and he purred at the sound, sucking your clit so strongly you soon felt contractions of the orgasm shudder through you, plummeting down to his fingers and making you writhe against them.  
You were sated as you pushed him off yourself. He leaned forward and kissed you, still panting. One good look at his jeans said he was hard.  
You grabbed it, kneading your palm against it, making him frown and drop his jaw.  
"No, baby. You will not be getting yours. You're also not allowed to touch yourself."  
He looked at you, blinking, closing his eyes.  
"Okay, Lydia. As long as that makes you happy."  
"It doesn't. But that's how it's going to be."  
He nodded, eyes still closed, hands fisting to keep himself from pressing your palm further into the jeans.  
"Of course. I will do whatever you need. For as much time as you need. Do you want to sleep?"  
"Yes, I'm quite tired. I'll talk to you in the morning." You said, rising up to clothe yourself.  
"You're not staying?"  
"No. That ought to give you time to understand the gravity of embarrassment you made me feel when I have to look at her face every class. And the pain of being afraid you no longer want me. The fear that you lied about your love to me."  
"I didn't! I swear to God, Lydia, I didn't!"  
"I hope you're right, Oakley. Because if not, we're both going to hell. Good night."  
You said, turning around to walk out. Quietly closing the doors behind yourself, you lit a cigarette and sighed, refraining from bursting into tears.  
  
  
*  
  
  
 _It began looking like love. Like you're in love with him. The thought made you blush wildly. How did it happen?_  
 _Could you ever resist him? You felt naked around him, your chest cavity exposed for him to look at your heart. It made you afraid. But he stared right into it and said your heart is beautiful._  
 _You pushed him away each time a litany of the soul wrecking love expressions would begin, not being able to look at him. He would hold you tightly, saying he won't stop until you trust him._  
 _How could such intensity come from such a young man?_  
 _A part of it was created by his father. He broke down finally, saying everything._  
 _"I feel weak talking about that. He never gave me an ounce of love. My mother left him, maybe that's the reason. But, looking at him like that, who could blame her?"_  
 _He said, running his fingers through his curls, sitting on the couch next to you._  
 _"He is a tyrant. I was never a man according to him. I will never grow into a man. I am a wuss, like my mother was. And never mind the stupid bullshit I tried doing to convince him otherwise. The amount of pranks, the amount of escapades in my teens. And the school?" He chuckled sadly. "I never did anything but write. I was keen on looking like a badass. But my writing... my teacher was a kind man. He made me publish things. Little things, essays, stories, in school magazines, no big deal. My father went berserk. He burnt some of my notebooks, yanking my hair. It was not the first time he beat the crap out of me."_  
 _"Oakley..." You said, your eyes filling up with tears. He looked at you._  
 _"Needless to say the comments I got upon enrolling into this college, into these classes. It took so much time to realise I'm not a failure, I'm not... less of a man."_  
 _His eyes were watery._  
 _"And last week, he said he didn't even expect me to come home. He doesn't want to see me." His face contorted, tears flowing out slowly. You pulled him to you, holding his head to your breasts, controlling yourself not to burst into tears as well. He cried, wrapping his arms around you._  
 _"Let him be. He is an asshole. You are a beautiful being Oakley, and I love you."_  
 _You flinched, your eyes opening wide when you realised what you said. He looked at you, his mouth agape, and leaned forward, kissing you._  
 _"The first time I saw you, Lydia, I already knew I love you."_  
 _You gulped, closing your eyes and allowing the emotion to flow freely through you, kissing him. You lied down, saying nothing else, for couple of long, comforting hours, until his phone rang and he had to go. He took your hand and kissed it, and you punched his shoulder, making him laugh._  
 _"Stop that."_  
 _You didn't say it anymore, the declaration of love, for some time to come. It just lingered in the air, like a delicate, but intoxicating perfume, making each movement of yours a dance._  
 _But as light as it was, you were still loud. Still yelling, still raising your voice whenever a fight seemed to arise._  
 _It's been two weeks since you didn't even contact your friends, and when you finally went for a drink with one of them, you felt a bit weird._  
 _"Jesus, Lydia, no tan, no new haircut? Have you even been to Italy?"_  
 _"Haha, I have. I don't know, perhaps the sun didn't shine on me."_  
 _You grinned._  
 _"But you look different. Come on, spit it out."_  
 _You laughed, waving your hand._  
 _"There is nothing going on!"_  
 _"Are you sure? Because if I am right, and I do know you for ten years, you look like you're regularly fucking someone, with that smiley face of yours."_  
 _You gasped, chuckling._  
 _"Oh God, I can't lie to you. Okay. So, I am."_  
 _Fiona opened her mouth._  
 _"Who is it?"_  
 _"I can't tell you. No, no, don't yell at me! I'll tell you, just not yet."_  
 _"Why?"_  
 _"I need to see what will happen."_  
 _"Oh, mysterious." She squinted. "Now I'm even more interested."_  
 _You laughed, shaking your head._  
 _"Lydia, what the fuck! It's ME! Fiona! Your fucking room mate from college! I literally saw you fucking a guy that one time!"_  
 _"Shut up! Jesus, you're loud!"_  
 _"Of course I'm loud, you can't do this to me. I'm offended."_  
 _You sighed._  
 _"If I tell you, you must swear you'll be quiet. I mean it. It's seriously risky." You stared at her, trying to get the air of seriousness to her mind._  
 _"Fine, okay, what?"_  
 _"NOBODY. Tell nobody."_  
 _"Okaaaaay."_  
 _"Ah. I'm in a... well, I suppose it's a relationship now... with a student of mine."_  
 _Her mouth widened into a grin._  
 _"Are you fucking kidding me? What student?"_  
 _"Uhh... it's... kind of a long story."_  
 _"How long? Wait, you were in Italy. Was.. that..."_  
 _You nodded, blushing._  
 _"Who is it?"_  
 _"You don't know him. I don't know... The entire year, just... he kept looking at me. Like, really looking at me. I thought I was imagining things. But it turns out I wasn't." You smile, blushing._  
 _"What happened?"_  
 _"I was afraid to go to Italy. I just... he took all these assignments I was handing out. And don't get me wrong, he is very good, I gave him the highest grades-"_  
 _"Oh I bet you did." She teased, grinning._  
 _"No, really! He writes... just, he writes. It's very good."_  
 _"Well that explains things. You always did have it for the artsy types."_  
 _"I did, yes. He is that."_  
 _"So, Italy?"_  
 _"Oh god. I was drunk one evening, I told you about how we hung out at the pool.... and he was drunk too. Everybody left, and... we did it like three times in a row. God he is amazing."_  
 _"Young st-"_  
 _"I swear to god, Fiona, if you say 'young stud' I will behead you!"_  
 _She laughed loudly._  
 _"I'm just five years older than him. He is... the kindest soul I met. So deeply in touch with himself. He makes me feel..." You gulped. "Things he says to me..." Your mind travels back to his beautiful words, all the secretive, passionate flights of emotions that marked your meetings. You feel your eyes watering. "He is... I never encountered someone like him." You close your eyes._  
 _"Oh Lydia... you're in love with him." She looks at you sympathetically. You sigh._  
 _"I don't know."_  
 _"Yes, you are. Honey, are you sure that's a good idea? Are you sure about his... loyalty? I mean, he could just be bragging around he's fucking his professor-"_  
 _"No, that's not him. He's not that. He's special."_

_"It doesn't sound very safe to me."_   
_"It's not. My career's at stake."_   
_"Exactly. Now, I get that you used the opportunity to sleep with someone so young and passionate, but-"_   
_"It's not like that, Fiona. You're not listening to me. I really care about him. I think I love him" Your eyes were full of tears again, you realised you were telling the truth. She sighed._   
_"So what about your career?"_

_"I don't know. It's risky... I don't know what to do. I can't ask him to leave my classes, it's in his major, he actually really wants to do it."  
"Well, professor, you really took to him. Any special assignments I ought to know about?"  
You chuckled.  
"Fuck, Fiona, it's the best sex I ever had. Hands down. Just... whew."  
"Do you dress him up in schoolboy uniforms and spank him with a ruler?"  
You hit her shoulder as she started laughing.  
"Fuck you!"  
You both laughed.  
"Well, who is he? What does he look like?"  
"Oh, his name is Oakley." You take out your phone and show her some silly photos from Italy.  
"So innocent... Are you sure this is not a teen fantasy of yours?"  
"It probably is, and I love it."  
  
You were quite happy to be able to voice your feelings to someone. As you were walking to your building, you were smiling, feeling a bit relieved. He was to come to your apartment in half an hour.  
Although, when you said what you did to him, he seemed to frown at you.  
"So why can't I tell my friends?"  
"Because some of them are in my classes?"  
"So what?"  
"So I can't risk that, Oakley. You know that."  
"But you told someone."  
"Yes, a long-time friend of mine, she is completely safe."  
"Oh, so your friends are gold, and mine are shitbags?"  
You sigh.  
"It's not about that, Oakley! I'm sure they are fine, but what if you get in a fight and someone decides to take his revenge on you like that? I'd get fired!"  
"And if she gets mad at you?"  
"She wouldn't stoop so low."  
"And my friends would?!" His face contorted. You were frustrated with the inability to explain yourself.  
"I didn't say that. I'm just trying to be safe."  
"Yes, you are, huh? I'm just a boytoy, you can say to your girlfriends how you're having an affair and you giggle over it, but I have to keep lying and sneaking out to satisfy you?!"  
"I never said that! I would never say that, what is wrong with you?!"  
You were screaming at each other, he was flailing his long hands.  
"What is wrong with me?! I'm the world's biggest fucking idiot, that's what! I put my trust in you-"  
"And I never misused it, Oakley!"  
"But the minute I ask you to put your trust in me, you can't! You're 'being safe'! You can't risk having an affair with a boy like me, because the honorable Academia might look down on you!"  
You drew back, hurt by his words, blinking rapidly as you felt your eyes water.  
"It's... how can you say that to me?"  
"How can you not trust me like that?"  
"I trust YOU, Oakley, I'm trying to... teaching means the world to me... I can't change the circumstances, I've worked so hard to get here, and I'm sorry, but I can't throw everything away because the society would not tolerate this! I can't change things, it's how it is!"  
"I never said that."  
"That's exactly what you said."  
"Well fuck, Lydia, what do you want from me?! I can't tolerate you having freedom to talk about this and I have to keep my mouth shut, when all I want to do is shout from the rooftops I fell in love with the most amazing woman I ever met!"  
You started crying, covering your face with your hands.  
"Get out! Get out of here!"  
"With pleasure!" He screamed back and slammed the doors behind him. You were crying. You understood what he was saying, and that last sentence just pushed you over the edge. He was everything he wasn't supposed to be. He was beautiful, just magnificently beautiful, you were beyond in love with the goodness in him, with life propping up from each of his movements. He was so young and yet so like-minded. He was a storm of emotions which you could only imagine existed in a single person. And he was in love with you.  
He was your student.  
You would not be allowed to teach. And if you did, you would always be the black sheep.  
Not teaching meant your death. You always wanted to do it, you felt yourself when succeeding in transferring a thought, an information, an emotion to your students. You knew you were able to lift their spirits, make them passionate about something. It was the most gratifying, pleasurable experience. You knew that's what you were supposed to be doing with your life. It made you feel like a worthy human being.  
To have all that pushed aside – to have all those young souls look at you with a thought of indecency and lines crossed instead of their current appreciation and respect... it seemed like hell to you.  
  
*  
  
_ You were wondering was it a good idea to do this. To torture him. Should you just not talk to him? That seemed like a more appropriate thing to do. But nothing about the two of you was ever appropriate.  
What to do in a situation where your soul mate did something that repulsed you, but you know you can't live without him? And you knew, you knew he didn't mean to. You felt it. And there also exists a fact that the two of you were not technically together when he did it.  
You sighed, rubbing your forehead and looking out the window of your office.  
And you almost forgot. The background atmosphere of you not being able to control your body around him.  
You finally decided that yes, it was a good idea. You'll keep him from pleasure, while you get yours, for as long as it seemed necessary.  
Also, it kept your mind from visiting the dark images of him fucking her – travelling to so many levels of naughty you surprised even yourself. Taking your phone, you typed:  
"Free tonight?"  
The answered arrived within seconds, making you smile.  
"Yes, of course!"  
You didn't say nothing, knowing he hates that. Another message arrived.  
"What did you have in mind?"  
You said nothing. You wanted him frustrated, you wanted him opened and mad and in lust with you so badly, that when you repeat, again, how much his act hurt you – it _really drives its point home_ and wedges itself into his mind so deeply he'll never think of doing it again.   
Also, it seemed to strike up a rather curious level of hotness in you, having him frustrated. Perhaps it's the leftovers from the domination experiment, perhaps it's revenge? You were slowly enchanting yourself with the idea of having him hard and horny for you, and not able to touch you. You were getting wet just thinking about it.  
  
 _Oh tonight should be fun._


	19. Chapter 19

The entire day you thought about it. In college. Grading essays. While going to the bank. The entire day: Oakley's panting. His voice. That strain which spoke of sexual weakness. The divine hotness of his mouth, the way his tongue slid around yours, hoping to arouse more out of you.  
Your mind was reeling with all the memories from the past days. Unbreakable love you felt for him while you were holding his head to your breast, playing with his curls. _Your Oakley._ Your baby. You would never allow anyone to hurt him.   
You would allow him everything. He would playfully use these moments of gentleness sometimes, to nuzzle his face into your breasts, to tease your skin, to try to turn you on. The grinning little imp always succeeded, too.  
You could never deny him anything.  
  
  
*  
  
  
 _It was unusually hard being mad at him. You hated that feeling. You understood him, but it was hard to explain your fear. Why didn't he get it? It's only been a night and few hours, and already, you missed your baby like crazy. How can you spend another, entire day, without him?_  
 _You sniffled, your arms feeling empty. You took your phone._  
 _"Oakley, can we please talk?"_  
 _You drank your tea with a worried face. Your phone rang._  
 _"About what?"_

_"Don't do that to me." Your eyes teared up again. You continued. "Please don't. I can't stand this. Let's talk it out."_   
_"I can't stand it either."_   
_"Come to me. I need you."_   
_You clutched your pillow, holding back your tears._   
_"On my way."_   
_You cried when you read it. You were so afraid he's mad at you, and rightfully so. You put on some tea for him, trying to clear your face, but it was still puffy and droopy, you looked horrible._   
_He let himself in and found you in the kitchen, staring out the window. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, you jumped on him and held him tightly, tears appearing again._   
_"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." You mumbled, kissing him. He separated, holding your face in his hands._   
_"You cried?" He said, his eyebrows contorting. You nodded your head, gulping. "Oh, my love, I am so sorry..." He hugged you tightly. You plastered your lips to his neck, feeling the pulse there._   
_"I never meant to make you cry." He said softly._   
_"It's not your fault, it's mine. Listen, I thought about what you said and I realised I was selfish. No, don't talk, listen to me. I was selfish, you were right. I did not put my trust in you." You sighed deeply. "You should be able to decide for yourself who are you going to tell. I can't control everything."_   
_"Thank you for saying that."_   
_"I trust my playboy." You smiled, wiping your tear. He chuckled._   
_"Yeah, I perhaps overreacted a little..."_   
_"With shouting from the rooftops and whatnot..."_   
_"Ooh, that I'd like to do."_   
_You shook your head. He laughed._   
_"I really do have to tell Matt. He's been trying to get it out of me for days. I couldn't help but grin each time he brought it up, I can't hide anything. So I just kind of flipped out when you said you told your friend..."_   
_"I understand. He's not in my classes, right?"_   
_"No."_   
_"Good." You smiled. "I like to have an air of superiority with all of my students."_   
_"Oh, you do, do you?"_   
_"M-hm."_

_He moaned._   
_"Does that include getting handsy with them?"_   
_"Hmm... sometimes."_   
_He caressed your back, lowering his hands to hold your hips. You kissed him, feeling the kiss turning visceral. You smiled, arching your back to press your body against his. He moaned._   
_"Are you trying to entice me?"_   
_He asked, licking your lips._   
_"Why yes I am, Mr. Brigham, your oral exam was exhilarating."_   
_He pushed you backwards, until your back hit the wall._   
_"How can you want me with my face looking like this?"_   
_"You're beautiful, you idiot."_   
_You chuckled._   
  
_It was benign, your first fight. All of them were, really. But there was an unspoken tension in the air once the academic year started. Tension which Fiona reminded you of almost all of the time._   
_As much as you avoided looking into the subject of outside view of your relationship, it was there. You tried not looking at him the first few classes, and it was fine. Until you handed out first assignment, looking for volunteers for essays – improving their grade. Among the three hands in the air, there was one that seemed familiar to you, since the fingers belonging to it were inside you just last night._   
_"Okay, so, names: Uhh, Miss Gaiman, right? Mister Riley... and what was it, Mister... Brigham, right?" Your voice almost quivered. He grinned widely, nodding his head. Nobody even noticed the exchange, but the tight strings of it stretched across the lecture hall, waiting to be plucked and sound their loud ring to the entirety of your student body. You marked the names down, not looking up, when you heard._   
_"Professor?" Said Oakley._   
_"Yes, Mr. Brigham?"_

_"I am not entirely clear on my approach to the theme, may I have a word in private?"_  
 _Your nostrils flared, you blushed, but had to look at him._  
 _"Of course. Anybody else needing a clarification is welcome at my office during office hours. I'm extending them to after each class. Now, where were we? Oh right. Development of New Critic-"_  
 _"Thank you, Professor." He interrupted. You glared at him._  
 _"You're welcome, Mr. Brigham. Ok, New Criticism. Finally we arrive at a turning point of academic approach, influenced largely by a more loose view..."_  
  
 _You couldn't believe him. It was not so weird, considering you allowed everybody to interrupt you with a thought. They were loose at your class, rising their hands whenever they felt like saying something. Often you strayed from the subject at hand to extend and connect everything, so you had to envision an entirely new way to present the themes._  
 _Oakley interrupted you for an entire year before you were together. Once, a while back, you almost got in a fight with him in class, when he exclaimed Pound's visit to Venice was his first encounter with Neoplatonism, and he drew heavily on imitating Italian writers of the Renaissance, therefore giving them tribute, while you were trying to explain to him the collage is too complex, including the figures first appearing in Baroque, such as concetto, and all that can be seen is merely a memory, a distant nostalgic mention of the era. He actually got out of his seat and offered to read you an excerpt and write a paper on it, but you snapped at his condescending attitude and read it yourself, detailing your opinion. He was tightening his lips and looking at you disdainfully, looking like an aristocratic Renaissance boy himself and had to sit down. Some of the students cheered and whistled at him. You barely controlled your smile at how adorable he was. He had to come after class to you, because he already took an essay._  
 _"Listen, Professor, I'm sorry to have raised my voice like that. I just thought there was more to it than you portrayed."_  
 _"You're perfectly welcome to do that, you know I have nothing against that. I accept your apology." You folded your arms over your chest, feeling smug._  
 _"But Pound included so much in each of the Cantos, it's an entire world in it's own, and I'm actually able to say that and offer lyrics to explain myself." He was flailing his hands again, his eyebrows lifting up as he took a step forward to grab the book off the table, but you placed your palm on top of it._  
 _"Oakley. He was writing that for forty years. All of the year would not be enough to look at each separate thing. It's a graduation theme. Do you want to do that?"_  
 _He stared at you, flinching at the sound of his first name._  
 _"Well, no, I still don't know what to write about... there are more interesting things, but what I'm trying-"_  
 _"In that case, young man, the discussion is closed. You have until next class to hand me the essay on Joyce. Is that done?"_  
 _"Uhh, actually I came to ask you can I get an extension, because, umm, I wanted to look more closely into it." He scratched the back of his head, licking his lips. You couldn't help but smirk at the movement, focusing on the pink skin, wanting to kiss it. You chased the thought away. "And I kind of got sidetracked by my other assignments-"_  
 _"In which case, why are you suggesting an essay on Cantos? You can't even finish this one. And no, you cannot have an extension. I'm expecting it Thursday morning, or you will be punished." You said, feeling strangely aroused, looking at his lips, which suddenly twitched and stretched into a smile._  
 _"Punished?" He asked. You quickly shook your head, blushing at your choice of words._  
 _"I mean, there will be consequences. Your grade will be lower by default."_  
 _"But you never gave me less than a B." He was holding back a smug smile._  
 _"That's because I'm one of the rare people here that judge you by your work and contributions, instead of your obvious hangover presence, still reeking of alcohol, Mr. Brigham."_  
 _He chuckled, looking at the floor._  
 _"Sorry Professor. Also,can I ask a-"_  
 _"Thursday morning, Mr. Brigham. We're finished. You may leave."_  
 _He smiled, before nodding and walking to the doors. You couldn't help but stare at the perfectly toned behind in those light jeans. He turned around, catching you, with his mouth opened to say something. You blushed instantly, and he just shook his head with a smirk, walking out._  
  
 _You smiled at the memory. It was getting out of hand even back then. But this was something completely different, you were sure it was written all over your face that you were sleeping with him. Luckily, the entire year was used to your mutual comments._  
 _After class, he came to your office and locked the doors behind himself._  
 _"What the fuck, Oakley? Must you be so obvious?" You stared at him. He chuckled._  
 _"Relax, nobody knows nothing. I couldn't help myself. You looked delicious blushing like that."_  
 _"Oh god, if you saw it, everybody did!" You covered your face with your hands. He removed them and kissed you._  
 _"I saw it because I know every single colour of your face, Lydia. It's making me excited." He purred, smirking at you, and turning you around to bend you on the table and lift your dress up. You laughed._  
 _"You're horrible, Oakley." You said, closing your eyes when he squeezed your buttocks and grabbed your hips, pressing you into his crotch, sliding his hands to your front and cupping your sex over your knickers. You moaned, chuckling. He leaned, covering you with his body._  
 _"You're making me hard in class when you get that bossy. It was driving me nuts last year, you have no idea how many times I wanted to do just this, bend you over and fuck you right here."_  
 _You felt heat spreading your teased sex, biting your lip._  
 _"I did wonder... would you do something like that. Oh there was one time, do you remember, after I threw that paper in the bin and told you to rewrite it?"_  
 _"Of course I fucking remember, that was humiliating!"_  
 _You laughed._  
 _"Well, it was so full of mistakes and these... Jesus, what was that, impressions? Backstories?"_  
 _"I was kind of high when I wrote that." He said, grinning to your ear, still stroking you deliciously._  
 _"I supposed you would like it. I was hoping that. And you just threw it away."_  
 _"Oh the expression on your face... Totally worth it."_  
 _"Argh, I wanted to hatefuck you then."_  
 _"Ahh, yes. I felt that. I was aroused, so aroused by you I actually had to lock the doors after you left and..."_  
 _"And what?"_  
 _"Push my fingers inside myself..." You said sweetly, and he just growled, pushing his fingers under the side of your panties and shoving them inside you. You yelped loudly._  
 _"If I had only known..." He said, biting your earlobe teasingly and flicking his tongue over it, slowly fucking you with his long, lewd fingers. You moaned, wet and aroused. Suddenly, there was a knock on the doors. You both jumped, realising your position. You quickly adjusted your dress and hair, and he whispered that the doors are locked. You nodded your head and handed him a pile of miscellaneous books, before opening the doors._  
 _"Oh, Miss Gaiman, come in, please, I was just handing Mr. Brigham his literature." She walked past you and he walked out, sucking his fingers to tease you. You glared at him open mouthed before closing the doors to his face, sighing to clear your mind._  
  
  
*  
  
You chuckled at the memory. Oh he was a playful one. _Is_ a playful one. You enjoyed the kinkiness so much you later thought that was probably the reason why being intimate with him was so intense.  
You convinced yourself it was because it was _furtive_ , and forbidden. But now you know it isn't.

It's a fountain of life, always renewing itself.  


And still, your sex is on fire, just like in the song. It was slowly becoming hard to keep yourself from rubbing your thighs together. And you had to mentor his class today. You came before the students, walking to his desk.  
"Lydia, love!"  
"Hey." You said, trying to look resigned.  
He immediately slouched, his face dropping down. It was not a pleasant image.  
"So, umm, you didn't answer me about tonight..."  
"I didn't, no."  
"Oh, okay..." He said quietly, slouching even more. You couldn't take it, in these days filled with memories of all the things you came to love about him. You drowned in his eyes and you saw _your Oakley,_ that person who made you understand the meaning of love. You smiled and took his face into your hands. He seemed confused, his eyes glistening questioningly at you.  
"My beautiful boy." You uttered and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly. As the burning of love transformed into burning of sex you separated, giving his nose a peck. He smiled at you. You turned around to walk to your seat, immediately regretting what you did. He was grinning at you like a happy idiot.  
"At eight." was the only thing you said to him as the students started barging in. He nodded, the happy feeling of victory written all over his sunshine features. Oh he had no idea what awaited him. _Languish and squalor.  
_ You smirked.  
He talked about Bertolt Brecht and his play _Mother Courage and Her Children_ , stopping to make sure the disgust for the war was buried deep in students' imagination.  
"Absence of love is what marks Anna Fierling as the cold, despondent character-"  
"Excuse me, Professor?" You interrupted him. He looked at you, surprised.  
"Yes?"  
You cleared your throat.  
"Absence of love is a bit harsh, don't you think?"  
"Well, the woman did want the war to run strong, was used to misery and held her head high in the most horrible of situations."  
"What would _love_ in such circumstances entail?"  
"Getting your children as away from there as possible."  
You smiled. He continued:  
"Even Brecht himself changed the play to make her less sympathetic to the audiences. Such as yourself."  
You smiled wider, his smug face was incredible. You felt blood pump through you, you were getting angry. Silence in the lecture hall was laden.  
"And yet, we remain seeing good in her. While yourself, in peace, judge people by their way of fighting for survival. On a more accurate note, Anna Fierling is not a real, close character. Just the opposite of the far above average ideals of human beings in Greek tragedies, she dwells somewhere along the thin line of a proper character and an avantgarde hologram. Saying that she is a... _cold, despondent_ character would be like saying the entire Expressionist scene arose from war alone. It would be the death of understanding the mental processes, the experiment on language, Professor. If anything, sympathetic audiences should be rewarded for dragging out the positive features even in such dull, gloomy circumstances. And that's only an impression, for an outside discussion on the play. Students should be warned off that, and I did not hear it in your introduction."  
His smirk was dropping down as you were talking, giving way to slight blushing and jaw clenching.  
"You interrupted me. I was just getting to that."  
"Ahh, in that case, I deeply apologise."You folded your arms over your chest. Oh he was mad at you, whispers behind you spoke of how everybody noticed you buried him. He seemed so hot now, glaring at you like he did. You knew he did not disagree with you, but you had to do it. In fact, it was a playful revenge on the thousand times he provoked you in your own classes. _Tit for tat, darling._  
You pursed you lips, and he cleared his throat and looked at his students.  
"Ahh, the death of ego, my friends. The end of the road, that's how it feels when your college professor still haunts you on your own lectures, correcting every word you say."  
Everybody laughed loudly, while he grinned. They freaking loved him.  
"But it's completely worth it. That woman made me love teaching, and if there wasn't for her, I would not be standing in front of you now. Thank her, guys."  
There was a thunderous clap throughout the room, as if they were all twelve years old. You rolled your eyes at him. It's like Satan himself poured a bucket of charm on him, there was no way you could make him look bad.  
And look at him, in his trousers and shirt, strutting his perfect body around. You licked your lips at the thought you get to have him naked and lusting for you.  
  
And you did. Later that day, you took your wrap up dress, the lingerie you bought, which took a good chunk off your salary – which is ironical, considering it had significantly less fabric than normal underwear. You bought it as a gift, basically – but a good look at it and your kinky ideas said it will drive him completely nuts.No garters, no stockings. Just the what presented itself as a [bra](http://www.bedtimeflirt.com/images/b20410.jpg) but looked like it was unfinished as your nipples were completely exposed, giving it the air of kink unmatched by anything you ever wore. The air of kink turned into a sex soaked fog of a stale brothel air when matched with a [thong](http://www.bedtimeflirt.com/lola-luna-open-string-p-2123.html) you bought separately, which covered the tiny expanse of your pubic hair, revealing everything else. There was a tiny heart pendant dangling off which you found equally cute and hot.  
Looking at yourself in the mirror – you thought you looked ridiculous, but decided to go like that nonetheless.

Your black wrap up dress revealed nothing, it was simple and inconspicuous, although your already hard nipples peaked through the fabric. Oh the surprise...  
You took your vibrator and placed it in your bag, chuckling to yourself.  
As you sat in your car, you discovered the heart pendant acted as a serious teasing device against your exposed clit, already making you damp. You hoped it wouldn't stain the dress and the car seat.  
Suddenly, your phone rang. It was Oakley.  
"Lyd, love, I'm so sorry but I'll be a bit late – I got caught up in a conversation with an agent, you know, about my novel, they are considering it, it's... oh god, I'm so excited! Are you on your way?"  
"Oh my god, really?" You pulled over, grinning into the speaker. His book might get published, it was incredible.  
"Yes, yes, I can't believe it! Anyway, I'm in the loo, and I have to go back. I'll be half an hour late, no more than that, I'm so sorry-"  
"No you fool, go talk to the man, it's okay!"  
"I love you! Let yourself in! The man's name is Russell, first floor – ask him to open the doors for you!"  
"Ok, I love you too!"  
You yelled and hung up, excited for him. You arrived to his apartment and poured yourself a glass of white wine, snooping around his things. You found it there, a printed stack of papers, the copy of a novel. But you shook your head, deciding it's up to him to allow you to read it, you couldn't do that. Fifteen minutes later, you heard the front doors opening, and you ran into the hallway to meet him. He had the widest grin on his face, jumping and hugging you so quickly your wine spilt over. You laughed.  
"So, how did it go?"  
"He said they'll be in touch, but I have a really good feeling, he loved it!"  
You shrieked, clapping your hands.  
"Wonderful, I'm so happy for you! But.. I didn't even read it."  
He ran his fingers through his curls.  
"I was afraid you'll... shit all over it."

You contorted your face.  
"You are harsh, Lyd!" He explained himself.  
"I'll still read it." You smiled.  
"Of course you will.." He said, kissing you. "By gods, you smell divinely..." He murmured, nuzzling his nose below your ear. You bit your lip.  
"Just... don't bury me, okay?"  
"I'm sure I'll love it, Oakley."  
"Uh-uh." He shook his head. "Don't be sure. Don't have high expectations."  
You chuckled.  
"Calm down, why are you so afraid?"  
"Because" He kissed you. "You are merciless, Lydia."  
"Oh you don't even know the start of it..." You smirked, pulling his tie. "Go to your room, Oakley. Show's about to start, and you're late for it."  
  


*  
  
  
 _He had a lot of studying to do, and you haven't seen him in a couple of days, so when you spotted a blonde curly head in the hallway alone, you hurried to meet him. Just when you were about to reach him and surprise him, you saw two people approaching him. Matt and Anne from your class._  
 _You stopped, pretending to be shuffling through your papers._  
 _"Hey!"_  
 _"You're fucking late, Matt, I'm starving. Hey Anne, how are you?"_  
 _He hugged all of them._  
 _"I'm wonderful, Oakley, you?"_  
 _"Oh, okay, my head's this big from that shit tone of Medieval, you know?" He mimicked with his hands, and she laughed – a bit too loud, you thought._  
 _"So, I can't really come, I have to take care of something, but Anne here wanted to take you out to lunch. I really got to run, Oakley, bye!" He tapped his shoulders and ran off._  
 _"So, what do you say? I know this tiny sandwich bar, not expensive... I thought you might want to buy me a drink too." She grinned, shaking her beautiful mane of blonde hair, flirting with him. Your nostrils flared, fists clenching. You wanted to bang her head against the wall. Luckily, they had their backs on you._  
 _"Uhh... actually, umm, I think I'll take a rain check on that one."_  
 _She pouted._  
 _"But you said you were starving."_  
 _"Yeah, I'll just grab biscuits or something. When Matt hurried off, I kind of remembered I have some more applications to take care of. You know how the administration gets with those forms, and I'm really lazy..."_  
 _"Oh. Another time, perhaps?"_  
 _"Uhh, yeah, sure, I'll ask Matt, we can all make it a party?"_  
 _"Hmm.. okay. Yeah, okay, we'll be in touch." She shook her head, obviously pouting._  
 _"Yes. So, umm, have a nice day, okay?"_  
 _"What, I don't even get a hug?"_  
 _She grinned, batting her eyelashes. He chuckled, hugging her. You though she held him forever, each second making your blood boil._  
 _They finally separated, each going in their own direction. You passed by her, nodding your head when she greeted you, your eye twitching. You reached him just as he was about to go around a corner._  
 _"Oakley!"_  
 _He turned around, noticing you. You threw yourself on him, holding him tightly._  
 _"Lydia! It's... somebody will see us."_  
 _"I don't care."_  
 _"Jesus, what is it? Come, let's at least go to your office."_  
 _"Yeah, yeah, you're right."_  
 _You walked fast, so fast he seemed confused, and you dragged him into your office after fumbling with the keys, jumping back on him when the doors closed._  
 _"Lyd?"_

_"That fucking blonde cunt..."_   
_You mumbled, and he figured it out, chuckling._   
_"You saw that?"_   
_"Yes I saw that!"_   
_"She's... Matt already told me she's been asking about me."_   
_You held him more tightly._   
_"No... no, she can't have you. No no." You mewled like a child, surprising even yourself with how acidic your insides were at the thought. He chuckled._   
_"Oh come on, don't worry about that. I haven't even thought of her."_   
_You refused to let him go, your heart beating loudly. He finally relaxed into the hug, wrapping his arms around you. You stood like that, quiet, for a couple of minutes._   
_"Are you going to let me go now?"_   
_"No." You said, making him laugh again. "Oh, okay. I'm sorry. I'm just... I can't believe I'm this jealous."_   
_He was grinning._   
_"I like that."_   
_"I like you." You said, looking down._   
_"How much?" He asked, placing his fingers under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him._   
_"Enough."_   
_"Enough for what?"_   
_"Enough to be so kind to take your mind off all the studying."_   
_"Oh really?"_   
_"M-hm." You said, kissing him passionately, before moving your lips to his neck and nibbling on his skin. He moaned._   
_"Oh don't do that..."_   
_You smiled and continued teasing him, licking his Adam's apple. You let your papers and bag fall to the floor as you lowered your head to lift his shirt up and lick the skin underneath. You kissed his abs, grazing your nails on the edge of his trousers, before pecking it lightly. His muscles contracted under your lips, almost trying to escape the arousing touch. You unbuttoned them, while kissing every bit of skin and trail of hairs exposed to you. He moaned._   
_"Oh god, Lydia..."_   
_You pulled out his hardening member, pumping it with your hand and observing his eyes, which were intense and glaring at you. You kissed the tip, smiling. He frowned, flinching._   
_You licked the entirety of the length and took it into your mouth, adjusting your tongue to glide the sweet erection over it as deeply as possible. He groaned, his fingers intertwined with your hair as he held your scalp to move inside your mouth. You relaxed, tickling the underside of it with your tongue, which knocked him off his rhythm and he started thrusting faster, before you clawed at his thighs, and he let you go to catch air. You inhaled deeply and started twirling your tongue around the frenulum, your saliva mixing with the pre-cum and drenching the entire length. He bit his lips and moaned at the image._   
_"I love the taste of it, baby. Fuck my mouth, it's making me wet."_   
_He growled and held your head again as he started thrusting inside again, faster, his abs contracting from the movements. He came fast, obviously peaking the entire time, and spilled his hot fluids down your throat. You pulled out, wiping your mouth. He threw his head back and panted heavily, coming down. You kissed the fading erection and slid up his body to kiss him, licking his stomach again. And then you felt it – it growled under your lips, signalling his hunger. He quickly looked at you, pressing his stomach with his palm, frowning. You chuckled._   
_"Sorry..."_   
_You kissed him._   
_"Come, baby. Let me feed you. I'm taking you out to lunch."_   
_You said, caressing his face, and he smiled at you, closing his eyes._   
_"What pantheon of gods do I have to thank for you, Lydia?"_   
_"Umm, Egyptian. I like them."_   
_"I thank the mighty Ra." You chuckled, kissing him. "I thank the mighty Anubis. I thank the mighty Hator. Who else is in there? Oh! I thank the mighty Bastet. I thank the mighty whoever's left..." He said, smiling at you._   
_"I'll tell you all about them at lunch. Button your trousers."_   
_You said, picking your things off the floor, and he took your hand into his, kissing it, before letting it go and walking out before you, to draw away suspicion._   
_All you wanted to do was wrap your arm around his waist and walk out with him. You felt a pang in your stomach. You were unable to love him like that._   
  
_Sighing heavily, you locked the doors and followed him out._


	20. Chapter 20

_Fucking Oakley, you wanted to kill him. You still couldn't believe he introduced you to his friends like that. You were at a concert, and he dragged you by your hand, saying your name to four or five of his friends. You were half drunk and they were all stupidly polite, but as soon as the cloud of alcohol dissipated, you realised what he had done._   
_"Are you fucking insane?! Have we not talked about this thousand times?!" You say as you exit the crowded little club._   
_"Yes! I thought you trusted me!"_   
_"I do trust you, you fucking moron! But to do it in a club, to people you barely fucking know?! What part of 'I don't want to be fired' are you not understanding?!"_   
_He stared at you, his mouth opened, confusion from why you were yelling turning into anger on his face. It was quite cold outside, and you were shivering._   
_"Nobody is going to get you fired, stop being so paranoid all the time! Besides, you introduced me to that Irish girl, what's her name..."_   
_"Fiona, Oakley, and we were alone, and I had asked you beforehand!"_   
_"Fine, LYDIA! What do you want me to fucking say?!"_   
_"Uhh, I don't know... maybe fucking apologise for not listening to anything I say?!"_   
_He growled, clenching his fists._   
_"Must you be such a cunt?!"_   
_You squinted your eyes at him, your blood boiling._   
_"You're right. I don't. Fuck off. I'm going."_   
_You said, turning on your heel to stomp away._   
_"Go! I don't care! See you in class, PROFESSOR!"_   
_He screamed after you, loud enough for half a street to stop and look at you. You wanted to run back and slam a fist into his pretty face, but you flipped him a bird and went off._   
_And today, you've awoken furious, spilling your morning coffee, throwing things around your house, calming down relatively enough to prepare you material and head for your classes._   
_You were gritting your teeth at the fact he'll be there._   
_He was late, storming into the classroom, breaking your sentence in half and walking loudly to his seat._   
_"You're allowed to be fifteen minutes late, Mr. Brigham, but must you hold back fifteen minutes of the lecture because you can't walk properly to your seat?"_   
_You squeezed through your teeth, your fingers gripping edge of the desk tightly to prevent you from making a face. He glared at you, obviously hating you for using your position to get back at him. A few students snorted quietly._   
_"Sorry, Professor."_   
_You nodded your head and continued with the presentation, but he interrupted you. Eight times throughout the whole lecture, (not that you've counted), to contradict you, add his made up opinion, or just add smartass comments. You two were bickering subtly. Oh what wouldn't you give for a good old spanking with a ruler. You were holding back a chortle at the thought as you stacked papers in your office, when he flew in, slamming the doors behind him. You jumped._

_"Fuckdamnit all! You startled me!"_   
_"Good. What the fuck was that, I didn't even walk in, and you're at my throat."_   
_"Oakley please. You were stomping your boots so loudly everybody stared at you. You're fucking five years old. Are you here to apologise?"_   
_He raised his eyebrows, chortling disdainfully._   
_"Apologise? I have nothing to apologise for."_   
_You huffed._   
_"You are being a mean prick, Oakley. Fuck you for that."_   
_"No, fuck you for yelling at me! You are being a manipulative bitch!"_   
_He flailed his hands._   
_"The whole building doesn't need to hear this, Oakley, lower you voice."_   
_"See? This is what I'm talking about! I'll yell if I want to!"_   
_You felt acid of fury eating at you._   
_"Oakley, you can scream if you want, I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about the fact the faculty must not know about this!"_   
_He stretched his hands._   
_"Ahh, that little gem. You're being completely crazy about that. You know what, Lyd, I have a feeling you're a bit embarrassed of me."_   
_He squinted, but the words cut straight through your heart. Just the past two weeks, you were being chewed at slowly by a feeling of helplessness – you wanted to take his hand and walk around freely, you wanted the world to see how much love you felt for him – and here he was, saying what he said._   
_Instead of tears gathering in your eyes, you became mad._   
_"How dare you say that to me, you fucking idiot? You have no idea how I've felt this whole time!"_   
_"How YOU felt? What about me?"_   
_"Ahh, yes. It's all about Oakley and his flair for drama. This is all about you and your grandiose love and shouting you love me from the rooftops! I'm just a show for you."_   
_You fired back at him, seeing his eyes flinch with hurt, immediately regretting what you said. You didn't even mean it, you just wanted to get back at him. He growled, grabbing your wrist and yanking you to him._   
_"I'm so fucking mad at you, Lydia."_   
_"Fuck you." You squeezed through your teeth, feeling his breath on your face. There was a strange teasing sensation at the edges of your lips, also spiralling around your nipples. He licked his dry lips._   
_"Let go of my wrist, boy." You said, staring at his mouth. His nostrils flared at your condescending tone and he kissed you – well, punched you with his lips, huffing loudly when he separated. Immediately an electrical surge of wild arousal washed through body, you felt your sex not twitching, but downright clamping a wet squelch over your folds. He bit your lip, making you yelp with the unpleasant pain which made it bleed a little._   
_"You fucking cunt." He said, licking blood off. "I want to fuck you right now."_   
_Another wet impulse shuddered out of you._   
_"I don't give a fuck." You growled, and he pushed you backwards, to which you stumbled and sat on the table to avoid falling down. As he took those two steps towards you, his erection reached you first, making a tent in his jeans. You folded your arms over your chest, baring your teeth at him. He dug his fingers into your thighs and spread them painfully, knocking some of the carefully stacked papers on your desk off._   
_"Ah! You asshole! You'll fucking stack them back!"_   
_He ignored you completely, busying himself with unbuttoning your jeans and dragging them off._   
_"You'll stack that shit, since you love your fucking job that much." He said, taking your chin between his fingers and kissing you roughly. You wiggled out and slapped him, the sound resonating the little office. His nostrils flared as he mouthed another curse at you. Oh his mad voice and the sting on your palm made you even hotter._   
_"Unzip your jeans right now and pull your fucking hard cock out now or I'll cut it off." You said, your sex on fire. You didn't have to tell him twice, he did it almost single-handedly, while painfully pushing your underwear aside, the elastic band digging into your skin, and shoved inside. You both moaned and took a moment – he enjoyed the sensation of his cock being gripped tightly by your insides, and you relished another wet, filthy squelch which seated it among your flowing juices._   
_"You're so wet. This is making you wet, insulting me?"_   
_"You are not seriously asking me that with an erection, are you?"_   
_He growled and slammed in again, making you whimper. As you were barely sitting down, your ass perched on the edge of the table, he spanked the soft flesh at the junction of your thighs and buttocks, as if to reprimand you. You leaned and bit his neck, sucking wildly, enjoying the harsh way he was slamming his delicious hardness._   
_However, as his soft moan floated across the air, you realised what you are doing, where are you, and how ridiculous the whole thing was. You chuckled involuntarily._   
_"What is it?" He stopped._   
_"Is there a scenario in which we don't end up doing this?"_   
_His tight grip on your thighs loosened a tiny bit as you felt him chortle quietly. He looked at you, staying completely still. You took his face into your hands._   
_"Oakley. I would rather stick a knife into my heart than have you think I was ever embarrassed of you. You have to believe me."_   
_He frowned, closing his eyes._   
_"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, that was horrible."_   
_"I'm sorry for saying your affection is fake. That was supposed to be a comeback, but I ended up sounding like a bitch."_   
_"Why are you wet then?"_   
_"Why are you hard?"_   
_He smirked._   
_"Hatefuck?"_   
_You bit your lower lip, feeling him moving painfully slowly inside you, rippling through and teasing your hunger._

_"M-hm.." You said, allowing your mind to give way to pleasure as you suddenly yanked on his curls. "Well then, hatefuck me like you mean it, darling."_   
_He growled and pulled out, continuing with the previous punishing pace._   
_"Perhaps next time" You said, between your heavy panting and mewling "You can shove your hard cock down my throat"_   
_His eyes rolled back in their sockets as he tried controlling himself._   
_"Or I will cut off your breathing with my wet pussy until you f-faint..."_   
_He moaned, circling his hips, before staying still and – spilling himself inside. When he pulled out, you were unsated and frustrated, and you pushed him down into a chair, straddling him._   
_"Make me come, fucking now" You growled, biting his skin. He shoved both of his middle fingers inside you, his palms turned to him and started curling them against your spot. Staring intently into your eyes, he coaxed a boiling hot gush of orgasming fluids out of you as you writhed, your muscles tense, and then impossibly relaxed as your head fell to his shoulder. You kissed the skin there._   
_"I don't like being mad at you."_   
_"I do" You reply, making him chuckle._   
_After a lengthy silence, he spoke again._   
_"Listen, Lyd, I do understand you. And sorry for that scene. Even though I think you're too paranoid, I shouldn't have pushed you like that."_

_You looked at him._  
 _"Thank you for saying that."_  
 _"I was just drunk a bit."_  
 _"Me too."_  
 _You leaned your forehead against his._  
 _"Are we good now?"_  
 _"Oh I'm very good." You answer, moaning lightly, smiling._  
  
*  
  
"I'm late for the show?" He asks, grinning. "What show?"   
You keep pushing him backwards, smirking silently, and order him to sit down on the bed. You take another sip of your wine and turn on some music, very slowly, almost mysteriously.  
He took off his jacket and was rolling up the sleeves of the dark shirt.  
"Lyd, baby, would you mind if I take a shower? It's been a long-"  
"That won't be necessary."  
"But I was running to meet this bloke, and then I ran here, and I'm sweaty. I really should shower."  
You licked your lips at him.  
"Mmm, I like it when you're sweaty."  
He smirked at you. The anticipation was making you drenched.  
"What do you want me to do?" He asked, obediently, making you smile.  
"Well, I wanted an opinion on some of my garments."  
He looked down your simple black wrap up dress - which was almost a house robe, that's how plain it was – frowning, blinking in confusion.  
"It's... it's a cute dress. Simple... uh, elegant?" He said, carefully, and you laughed loudly, he was adorable.  
"Not the dress, Oakley, this."  
You unwrapped it, letting it fall to the ground, revealing your lewd, impudent underwear – the bra with half-cups, revealing your nipples and most of your breasts, and the open G-string knickers, with a heart pendant dangling down, crotchless, covering only the hairs on the beginning of your sex. And all of that in his favourite true red colour.  
The smile on his face vanished, as he took in every shape presented to him, licking his dry lips, not ceasing staring at you. The smug, flirty look on his face was changing into that of mindlessness. He was stupefied.  
"So?"  
Only now he looked into your eyes.  
"Fuck."  
Was all he said, making you chuckle.  
"Oh what of the shapes, the quality of the fabric, the colour, does it make me look older, does it make me look fat?"  
You teased. He gritted his teeth.  
"You're wet." He said, seeing your folds glistening lewdly. You felt unbelievably aroused, knowing he was getting harder by the second.  
"Come here, I have to touch the fabric to tell you about the quality of it." He said, regaining his composure a little. You smiled and walked to him, placing your knees on either side of him and were kneeling like that, your breasts right in his eyeline.

"The pattern, I like the pattern." He teased back, and you smiled, starting to twist your nipples between your fingers, watching him squinting and breathing heavily.  
"Even wearing it is making me wet. It feels so dirty..." You honestly said, licking your lips. "I've had other plans for you, but I'm feeling generous – it's not everyday you get your book published."  
"Almost... I'm not sure yet-"  
"It'll be perfect, Oakley, don't worry."  
"But-"  
You cut off his protest by shoving your breast inside his mouth. He closed his eyes and lapped at your skin with his tongue. You moaned to yourself.  
"You're so soft..." He whispered, licking his lips, before grazing the stubble on his chin over said soft skin, igniting a fire when it scratched your nipple almost harshly. You moaned, feeling the squishy, wet folds of your pussy tickle and beg for attention. You stopped him before your mind got too clouded, and started unbuttoning his shirt, then trousers, and soon, he was naked, his cock straining at you, erected and delicious looking. You licked your lips slowly, bent down to kiss the tip, making him flinch and inhale deeply.  Crawling up his body, you chuckled, and pushed down him on his back. You placed your knees on both sides of his head and sat down on his chest, before lifting up and allowing him to view your lecherous knickers more closely. He moaned.  
"Fuck, you're so wet..."  
You looked down, seeing wet, thick gossamers dragging to your thighs, flowing out of you - it was all looking truly kinky.  
Suddenly, he caught the pendant with his teeth and pulled on it. You whimpered, your hips bucking of their own accord.  
"I like this." He mumbled through clenched teeth and pulled down, making you inch closer.  
"Let go." You pinched his nose, to cut off breathing so he'd let go, but he breathed through his mouth. It suddenly seemed funny, and you giggled a little before reaching behind yourself and squeezing his cock harshly. He immediately let go of the pendant and moaned loudly, making you laugh.  
"Tsk tsk tsk. You're being disobedient. No pussy for you."  
You said and strated playing with your folds, two inches from his lips, stretching your labia, circling your sensitive clit. He rolled his eyes lustfully.  
"Lydia, let me pleasure you..."  
You shook your head, dragging a wet gossamer from your sex to his lips and started kneading them erotically. He frowned, darting a tongue out.  
"How do I taste, baby?"  
"Goddamn it..."  
"Would you like to lick my pussy? Look at all these juices oozing out. You're making me so wet, Oakley."  
He groaned painfully, frustrated. You chuckled, before cutting off the sound he was making by placing your wetness on his lips. He sucked loudly, his fingers digging into your buttocks. The feeling of his mouth taking your clit inside, his tongue pushing inside you – it was almost too much. You were feeling like there was a gigantic beast of lust making you writhe with desire, moaning languidly.  
"Oh Oakley... I thought about your tongue the entire day..."  
He looked up at you, his eyes dark and determined. You moved away, and his head bobbed up into the empty air, making you laugh. He licked his lips, wiping your wetness off his chin with his fingers.  
"I need to be fucked." You said, and he smiled. You got off him and walked to the kitchen on shaky legs, retrieving your vibrator from your bag and hiding it behind your back.  
  
He was lying with his eyes closed, his hand slowly pumping up and down his shaft, his hips writhing and rolling, abs straining, thigh muscles clenching. He was moaning, biting on his lower lip. Good God, that image alone was enough to make you come, he looked so hot touching himself like this, thinking about fucking you.  
For a moment there, you thought about walking to him and mounting him like an animal, sliding your needy, empty insides on the throbbing cock and fuck until your both share at least ten orgasms – but you shook your head, deciding he needs to be tortured still.  
You did indulge a tidbit of the fantasy and mounted him. He moaned looking at you – frowning with terrible realisation as you showed him the vibrator and turned it on.  
"That's right, my love. You'll be using this."  
"What..." He mouthed, frustrated and confused.  
"I forbade you touching yourself, didn't I? You're a bad, bad boy." You said, taking his erection into your hands and sliding the vibrating metal over the sensitive head. He yelled out, flinching violently. You grasped the vibrator along with his cock, placing it upwards on his stomach, and licked around the cold head, lightly touching the hot skin pressed against it.  
Oakley groaned loudly, his eyes watering. You pouted.  
"What is it, baby?"  
When he looked at you, he had a streak of domination in his eyes, probably thinking about pushing you down and fucking you roughly.  
"If you dare doing what I sense you want to, I will never speak to you again." You reprimanded him with a serious look. He threw his head down on the bed and gasped.  
"Goddamn it."  
"Good boy." You said and kissed his erection, making him flinch.  
"If you could, how would you fuck me now?"  
He growled.  
"I asked you a question."  
After a minute of breathy silence, he replied.  
"On your back, so I can see lust on your face. Those gorgeous tits bouncing as your wet, tasty pussy swallows my cock... oh fuck, Lyd, I can't take this anymore.." He almost wailed, not even looking at you.  
"But you can, and you will." You were surprised at the amount of dark determination in your voice.  
You laid next to him, placing the vibrator in his hand.  
"Fuck me with this."  
After hesitating shortly, he spread your thighs and sat on his calves between them, his cock pointing at you. You were weighing your decision constantly, but lingered by it.  
He sighed, staring at your sex, before biting his lip and pushing the vibrator inside you. You shrieked, it felt divinely.  
"Fuck!"  
He circled it, dragged it out, pushed it in, massaged all the spots you needed him to, while you were mewling your approval, writhing beneath him. You rose, making him sit, and straddled him, so the vibrator fucking up into you was dangerously close to his cock.  
"Stop whimpering like that, I can't listen to you..." He whispered, desperate. You held his face, riding the hand with the vibrator, allowing yourself to whimper even more loudly, mewling filthy words. His eyes were tearing, his skin sweaty.  
You couldn't look at it – you came, clenching minutely, spasming and yanking his hand away – the vibrations were becoming almost painful, but the pleasured, tight wave of orgasm ripped through you wonderfully, lilting your troubled arousal up and away from your body, as you slowly came down, dropping your forehead to his shoulder.  
Your eyes opened, you looked at him. There were actual tears sliding down his face – tears of sexual frustration. He was ready to plead with you, panting and frantically licking his lips.  
You grinned at him, looking down at his cock – now a painfully purple erection. You wanted him a mess, a whimpering, slobbering mess for you, so you placed your palms on his strong shoulders, lifting your hips a bit higher and pushing him on his back again, then slowly rubbed your soaked, swollen folds over the hard shaft. He held his breath, grasping tightly the sheets on his sides.  
"Does this feel good, baby? This is as close as you'll get. Mmm, I must tell you, you did quite well with the vibrator – but this, oh it's incomparable to your thick cock... it's like it's made for my pussy...  
"It is.. oh, it's for you, for you alone..."  
You suddenly grasped the erection in your palm, squeezing it.  
"THEN WHY DID YOU PUSH IT INTO SOMEONE ELSE'S CUNT?!"  
You screamed, startling him from his lulled desperation. He looked at you, inhaling loudly and almost coming into your hand, but you let go of him, slapping it. Then you sat between his spread legs, playing with your swollen, completely slick folds while he panted, staring at the act.  
"I'm going to go now, Oakley, baby. But I want you to see this. I won't wipe myself. I will be walking down the stairs of your building drenched like I am, my arousal will drag down my thighs. Yes, arousal, I'm very much turned on again and all I can think of this thick, juicy cock sliding inside me. "  
Another tear flowed down his face as he mewled, closing his eyes.  
"But it's not happening. Not now. You'll need to remember you must not come, not accidentally, not getting yourself off. Can you do that for me? I need to know you're left unsatisfied."  
He nodded, his head heavy.  
"Oh, poor baby. You're in pain, are you not?"  
He nodded. You shifted so you were on your knees and took his face into your hands, licking his lips.  
"Mmm, I must go. Be a good boy."  
"Lydia... why... won't you sleep here?"  
You chuckle.  
"So I wake up with your cock inside me?" You imagined it. "Oh lordy, now that's a lovely image. I bet I would ooze from the lightest contact..." You bit his lip while he groaned helplessly. "No. You might just use the opportunity. And I might just allow you to. So no."  
"Please... please, I can't take this... I need you..."  
"No, baby." You caressed his sweaty face. "I'm enjoying this far too much. Not yet."  
You got off him and dressed yourself.  
"See you tomorrow, beautiful." You said, blowing his slouching, desperate form a kiss.  
"I love you..." He helplessly replied. You smiled and turned around to exit the heavy atmosphere of the room.


	21. Chapter 21

The amount of wicked self satisfaction only grew while you were walking across the parking lot to the teachers lounge for an impromptu faculty meeting. You knew he was going to be there.  
 _How did he feel?_ Was the question bothering you. You haven't been in contact for two days, and you knew sexual frustration only grew. God, it made you so hot just thinking about it.  
Your energies corresponded – always have. He knew when you wanted him, and so did you. You could feel his desire like an exotic, perfumed cloud billowing all around him.  
And now, purposedly denying him the satisfaction, while simultaneously spurring the lust to its maximum... the hunger seems great. And you love it. The power was getting you drunk.  
So drunk you almost percieved your body like he did, feeling every part of skin thirsting his touch, feeling beautiful. You wore a skirt, again. This week and a half alone you wore more skirts than the entire previous year. Just to play with him. Sans knickers. A see through black T shirt. And a blazer on top, buttoned for the meeting.  
  
He sat opposite of you, intentionally, making you chuckle. You were a bit late, so you caught him flinching when he spotted you. Staring at him the entire meeting, you noticed his breathing increasing, tiny movements of lips and twitches of the eyebrows which spoke of his discomfort.  
You pulled your chair underneath the large desk, to hide your hand which lifted the hem of the skirt to play with your tickling folds. You were positively wet, feeling like a complete whore for not being able to focus on the meeting due to the presence of the delectable body of your lover so close to you.  
  
He had work to do. A lot of it. Biting his lip nervously, he smiled lightly at you and stormed to his office after the meeting. Chuckling, you followed him, knocking politely.  
"Come in!"  
You heard him yell out, and you entered.  
"Why are you knocking?"  
You leaned your back on the doors and locked them behind yourself, then proceeded to slowly unbutton and take off your blazer, revealing hardened pink buds clearly visible through the T shirt.  
"Manners."  
His eyes dropped down to your breasts and he sighed heavily.  
"Yes, you're such a well mannered lady." He said, his voice low, biting his lip because he knew you were going to tease him and not let him do anything. You took off your shoes and walked to his desk, knocking off papers, making him frown and reprimand you, but you sat down and placed each foot on the armrests of his chair. He leaned back, away from you.  
"Just this morning I had a particularly... enticing fantasy."  
He folded his arms over his chest.  
"You heard how many things I have to do. Why did you come here to torture me?" He said, licking his lips. You shrugged, and started sliding your toes up his thigh playfully. You felt the muscle tightening underneath.  
"I heard some of it, yes. But my mind was a bit unfocused, probably because I was touching myself under the table. "  
"You..." His lips tightened. "You were staring at me."  
"Yes, I did think about you. Also, I remember you distracting me in my office on more than one occasion, mister Brigham. Do you want to hear about my fantasy?"  
"Do I have a choice?"  
"Not really."  
He grinned and leaned his head on his chair, closing his eyes.  
"Oh Lydia... you're loving this, aren't you?"  
"Quite so. Anyway, it was the third week of me teasing you to the edge of insanity-"  
"How is that a fantasy?"  
"Shut up and listen!" You said, pressing the ball of your foot to his lightly hard crotch. His thighs tried closing, but you spread them with your other foot.  
"So, long story short... we were in a club, dancing, and I was so horny I rubbed myself against you constantly. You were begging for me to stop, but I didn't want to. We were both sweaty and exerted."  
He was clenching his jaw.  
"And I was wet. And without knickers, like now." You said, and lifted your skirt. He inhaled sharply, making your core hot with his gaze.  
"Dripping wet. For you. I felt it rub around the top of my thighs as I was kneading my ass against your crotch. You held my hips, pleading into my ear, but I kept saying no to you. Oh god, just thinking about it makes me... mmm..." You closed your eyes and started circling your clit with your fingers and dipping inside yourself. He had a mad, desperate look on his face. His cock was completely hard under your foot.  
"You couldn't take it anymore. You bit my neck."  
You moaned and pushed two fingers inside yourself.  
"Lydia... I..."  
"I told you to get off. I told you I'll keep you hard and turned on but your cock isn't going anywhere near my tight, hot pussy..."  
He groaned helplessly. You chuckled.  
"But you snapped. You pushed me against the wall, yanked my skirt up and drove your hardness inside me, moaning with relief once you did. Everybody was watching. Oh, I just love it when you get like that, demanding any part of my body, spreading my slick pussy lips and grinding your tasty cock against them... it was a good fantasy, Oakley, I was fingering myself the entire-"  
He growled, pushing your foot off and rising out of the chair to grab your thighs and pull you closer to him, your ass perched at the edge of the table. He bared his teeth while unzipping his trousers and pulling out the erection. You bit your lips at the lack of patience. He looked at you, hot skin of his cock touching your greedy, slick entrance.  
"If you push yourself inside me now, I will allow you to. We'll come. But I will not speak to you after that."  
He closed his eyes and growled again, stepping away from you. You smiled, grabbing his tie and pulling him down for a kiss.  
"Good boy, Oakley. You're allowed... two inches.”   
He frowned at you. You laughed.  
“Just the two, honey. You never thought you'll hate being so long, now did you?”  
He bit his lower lip and pushed inside you slightly. Grinning at your joke, you felt a radiating heat echoing around your womb and moaned.  
“Just the tip...” He whispered, more to himself, his face blushing wildly from the ridiculousness of the situation. Admittedly, it took a chunk of self control even for you not to reflexively buck your hips and slide him further inside.  
“Mmm... now that feels amazing. Rub my clit.” He reached his shaky fingers and started teasing your sensitive bud.  
“Ahh, with the head of your cock, not your fingers.”  
He groaned.  
“Baby steps, Oakley. Perhaps soon you'll be allowed to fuck me properly.”  
He closed his eyes and pulled out, dragging the heated skin to your clit and kneading on it, his face cringing with refraining himself. Oh the velvety feeling was driving you crazy, you had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from moaning loudly.  
The orgasm hit you shallowly, only clamping your womb down with hunger for being sated deeper inside and you whimpered, pressing yourself against him. He waited, his eyes watery. You smiled at him, almost feeling sorry.  
“That was rousing.” You chuckled. “Thank you, baby.” You rose, pulling your skirt down and wrapping your arms around him, feeling the erection pressing against your lower belly.  
“You're not going to kiss me?”  
“Lyd... it's... how am I supposed to work?”  
“Cool down.”  
“This is... it's exhausting.”

“Yes, pretty much. But I'm significantly less mad at you.”  
“Really?” He lifted his eyebrows. You nodded.   
  
  
*  
  
  
 _A week after he cheated- no, scratch that, you trusted him – after Anne used him on the party, a week filled with his not letting you go apologising and convincing you he loves you and only you, you felt insecurity creeping up your spine. It was becoming extremely hard – the hiding, the avoiding of the world. It was tiring – sneaking around, catching dark, lonely moments to profess your love.  
The fun part was nearing its end, leaving vast space for feeling lonely and annoyed. He had three years of school left. What were you two doing, anyway? Is this a steady relationship?  
Somehow, you didn't think about it this whole time. He was young, and you were too happy.  
Things clicked, falling into their perfect spaces. Somehow, it felt too good to be real. It felt too dreamy.  
Things like that are not real. Things like that are fantasies, illusions.  
Fiona was getting on your nerves. She never really accepted you two. Yes, she met him. Yes, there was a moment in which she admitted she never saw you this mad about someone. But she kept thinking it's a fling, your kink, your desire to feel younger.  
  
You were looking out the window, biting your lip with anxiety, when he tugged at your hand.  
"Lyd, where are you? You're not even watching the video."  
He was showing you a new Black Rebel Motorcycle Club video he loved, explaining how perfect he found it, and as much as you shared his enthusiasm, you couldn't focus.  
He was laying his head in your lap for you to caress his curls, music and pictures blaring from the laptop on the coffee table in front of your couch.  
"Oh, sorry baby, I was distracted with something from work."  
"What happened?"  
"Uhh... it's nothing, there's a bunch of things I have to do."  
He kissed your palm.  
"Do you need help?"  
You smiled at him.  
"No. You have to study, besides, that's not very ethical, you're not supposed to have your hands in teacher materials. We agreed on that."  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Am I bothering you now? Do you need me to go?"  
You leaned down and kissed him.  
"No, it's okay... it's... don't leave." You felt your throat constricting, a simple statement of him not bothering you currently turning into something visceral and painful for you, a long lasting plea for him not to be apart from you. "Don't leave, please. I..." You closed your eyes, feeling tears pooling inside.  
"Hey, what is it?" He rose, sitting facing you, and removed your hands from your eyes.  
"It's nothing..."  
"It's obviously something, Lyd..."  
You shook your head, tears running down your face.  
"I guess I'm PMS-ing or something... please ignore me."  
"How can I ignore you? By God, Lydia, I love you." He kissed your salty tasting cheeks. That made you cry even more. Was it the impending fear this relationship is nearing its end, was it a hunch?  
You couldn't stop, and his hands and lips trying to put you at ease kept making you feel worse.  
"Oakley... would you, would you mind if I asked you to leave now? I think I just... need to sleep a little."  
His eyes were huge and worried, eyebrows contorted. You couldn't bear to look at that expression right now.  
"Are you sure?"  
You nodded.  
"Okay than. Rest, my love. If you need anything, just call me."  
"I will. I'm sorry."  
"It's okay, I understand. But please, don't carry it all by yourself."  
He sighed, rising up from the couch, putting on his shoes and picking up his things. He looked at you from the doorway. You could tell from his expression he knew there was something wrong.  
"I love you." You mouthed. He smiled sadly, before looking at the floor and turning away, closing the doors behind himself.  
  
It went on for days, your discomfort. You'd shove it away and enjoy yourself, but it kept creeping back like a mocking ghost, slithering its wry fingers around your throat, sneering and snickering in your ear. _  
_You couldn't focus. You shared so much, so many interests – and now you couldn't focus on any of them, which made you feel like shit._  
 _To Fiona, it seemed as if you were coming to grips with reality. And then she said something which ate at your soul more than anything else._  
  
 _"And what do you think, he doesn't want to be with anyone else? He's young, this is exciting for him, but he doesn't realise he's losing on the genuine college experience. One day, he'll look back and think you used him. Lydia, you know I love you honey, but can't you see it? I mean, five years from now, where will you be? And he? Don't you think that five years from now he'll think he wished he took more liberties, and not indulge this one kink you seem to be sharing?"_  
  
 _It ruined you. You sat in your office, heat spreading down your spine from the embarrassment. She was right. You were using him. For your fantasy, for your comfort._  
 _Yes, you love each other. But, realistically, where is this going? You're hiding, for the love of God! He's lying to his friends, your career's at risk – how is that a proper, honest relationship?_  
 _You shuddered at the thought of him resenting you._  
  
 _You didn't know what to do._  
  
  
*  
  
  
Leaving him to his work, you took your own tasks to finish them properly, focusing on them instead of devising methods to torture him. However, lingering memories of pain and anxiety were clawing at you, in short periods of time when you zoned out.  
  
When you left your office to go get a cup of coffee, you were walking down the hallway, thinking of how much frustration and sadness it brought not being able to be honest about him five years ago. Lifting your head up, you saw him walking out of the toilet.  
At the same time, he was the lanky boy with curly angel hair flailing his limbs around, grinning like an imp and drawing all the attention to himself like he was the sun, walking down the hallway and almost prancing around making some group of people laugh – and this tall man with determined steps, in his suit trousers, with his rolled up sleeves and slightly changed: the flailing subsided (although you could still get him riled up and screaming defending some argument), giving way to a subtle wave of the long fingered hand in order to soak up everybody's adoration like he did.  
  
And he was yours.

Increasing your speed, you followed him. You hurried up even more. And more. In the end, you ran to catch his large stance, and yelled his name. He turned around, his lips immediately curling into a smile. The words of love stumbled in your throat as you placed your hands on his shoulders. He held your waist, blinking questioningly at you.  
"I-in..." You stuttered and chuckled at yourself. "I..." You were grinning, not believing how hard was speaking your mind all of a sudden. He smiled.  
"What is it, Lyd?"  
"I... I remembered the feeling, Oakley."  
"What feeling?"  
  
You closed your eyes.  
"The feeling of being choked, the anxiety. The fear, the guilt. I couldn't even hold your hand. It was so horrible... and the guilt – that I was using you-"  
"Lydia, love, that's nonsense."  
"I know, beautiful, I know." You said, caressing his face. "I know that now, but then... Anyway, I saw you now, in the hallway-"  
"Hello Professor!"  
A female voice interrupted you. Charlotte. She was greeting him. Your soft smile drained down. The fucking balls on that girl... unbelievable. He nodded awkwardly and looked at you, terrified. As quickly as it appeared, your sudden anger subsided. She didn't matter. In this moment, this very sacred moment for you, she was just another student face in the hallway.  
In fact, her presence only accentuated the fact a lot of them were staring at you. Which felt good, for a certain reason.  
You looked at him, smiling, before speaking slowly, accentuating every word with a caress of his face. Both of you completely ignored her, as if she didn't speak at all.  
"Oakley, my love. It tore my soul apart when I was unable to do all those things. It was like it meant everything we shared was unreal. I was influenced by people around me. I didn't see it. And this, right now... it's like a little chance to correct those tiny mistakes. Do you understand me?"  
He smiled, nodding slowly.  
"It was my first thought upon meeting you in hallways, darling."  
You heart a huff and steps stomping away, making you smirk lightly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss which made your lips tingle, your entire skin break out in goosebumps when he grasped you tightly. Sounds around you died for a couple of seconds, giving way to joint breathing.  
When you separated and opened your eyes, you heard a few distant whistles and mocking cheers, which made you both laugh.  
"Am I embarrassing you in public?"  
"Oh Lyd. This would have to be my favourite kind of embarrassment ever. I would've sold my soul to the devil for it all that time ago. Secretly, I was always hoping you'd jump on me somewhere and not care about the consequences."  
"Yes, you always did have a flair for drama, even in the bedroom."  
You mocked him.  
"Says the miss Two-Inches, formerly known as Nobody-Can-Reach-That-Spot-Of-Me-Oh-God-Oakley-Hard--"  
You clamped your palm over his mouth.  
"Shut the fuck up!"  
He chuckled, kissing your palm, his eyes warm and beautiful.  
"I love you." You utter slowly, as you remove your palm. He closed his eyes for a second, before lifting you up in a ribs-crushing hug, drowning your squeak with a passionate kiss.  
"I have to go... get a cup of coffee and continue" You say. He nods his head.  
"Me too, gorgeous. Work. Will you bring me a cup?"  
"M-hm." You say, dazed from the kiss. "I'm going now."  
"M-hm..." He says, but continues kneading his lips against yours. "No, let's go."  
You smile and keep on kissing him, chuckling when you finally manage to separate.  
You dart your tongue at him while running down the stairs towards the exit, completely ignoring the occasional student staring at you.


	22. Chapter 22

A moment of your weakness was apparently enough for him to get his courage back again.  
No matter the rigidness of the truth, the familiarity of the vast space of your love which you acknowledged with a look, a smile, something your own, private, that was there from the first moment you made love to each other. That was sacred, not to be touched or discussed.  
And the validation of it made your revenge teasing even a lesser game. Now he knew you weren't mad at him anymore, and he isn't going to be that delicious pleading mess he was the past few days.  
 _But I was enjoying that so much...._ You thought, pouting, as you ate your dinner in your apartment, alone.

Why are you here anyway? _Well, because if I go to him now, I'm officially declaring this game finished._ Your mind replied. You huffed. There's no telling what he would do.  
  
But you felt silly alone like this, like you're pretending, like you're a pouting child which needs to learn a thing or two. Taking a sip of your water, you chuckled at yourself.  
You had to go. You couldn't sleep alone now. So you took a shower, did the dishes, put on some clothes, hopped into the car, grabbed a couple of packs of cigarettes on the way and in twenty minutes found yourself knocking on his doors.  
When he opened, his face lit up into the loveliest smug grin anybody can produce with their features.  
"Hey..." You said, biting your lip.  
"Hey." He replied, not moving aside for you to enter, folding his arms over his bare chest. He was in his sweat pants. You raised your eyebrows, blinking.  
"Oakley?"  
"Lydia?"  
"Oakley!" You were pissed at his little exhibition now, he still didn't make any move to let you in.  
"Yes, Lydia?"  
"What the fuck are you doing standing there?"  
"It's my apartment. And what the fuck are you doin-"  
You couldn't take it anymore, you pushed him inside as he started laughing and nudged his ribs with your fist.  
"Idiot!" You yelled as he laughed and embraced you tightly, kissing your forehead. You pulled his head down for a kiss on the lips, feeling warm.  
"So..." He said, separating from you and going to the kitchen to get a cigarette. You followed him, taking your own. "What brings your beautiful face here? What games have you devised for me today?"  
You smirked. So he was expecting that. _Good._ Then your smirked washed away, as you realised you hadn't actually planned anything, just wanted to be with him.  
"...Do you want me to edge for hours on end? Or do I get an inch more?"  
You realised you weren't even listening to him, he was looking at the ceiling and flailing his hands. But his words gave you an idea.  
"I don't want to do anything. I just want to be with you. I couldn't stand being alone, when you're so close and so warm and so beautiful." You said, honest. _Two truths and a lie always make the lie sound like the truth. Of course you wanted to do something._  
He looked at you, a nostalgic smile twitching his lips and crinkling his eyes. You looked to the floor, supporting your act. Then you looked at him and smiled shyly, before walking to him and laying your cheek on the hot, naked skin of his chest. He wrapped his hands around you and held you tightly.  
He smelled divinely. If you closed your eyes, the smell could take you back, way back...  
  
  
*  
  
  
 _The third week the thought nagged at you. How to solve this?_  
 _The thought of breaking up seemed like the only escape, even thought it's currently the most painful one, in time it should prove to have been the right one._  
 _You couldn't keep doing this to him. To yourself._  
 _He knew there was something wrong. He felt it. As you were turning around in bed, you faced a pair of wide blue eyes and realised he wasn't sleeping either. You gasped._  
 _"Sorry, love. Did I wake you?" You asked, forcing a smile._  
 _"Lyd, what is it? You're restless."_  
 _"I think I had too much coffee today."_  
 _His lips tightened in the semi-darkness, he wasn't believing you. You caressed his cheek, your throat constricting for the hundredth time with the thought of how this is one of the last times you'll get to do that._  
 _"Coffee, really?"_  
 _"Yes" You nodded. "Don't mind me, sleep."_  
 _"How can I sleep when I can feel you awake?"_

_You closed your eyes, sighing._   
_"Ok, I'll try to sleep. With you as a warm blanket, shouldn't be too hard."_

_He smiled lightly, pulling you to lay your head on his warm, naked chest. You inhaled. He smelled divinely. You closed your eyes, letting the burdens of your soul be delayed for another night._  
  
 _It really started to get heavy, you could barely look him in the eyes anymore. Today, you resigned your job. Later, you're picking up your letter of recommendation, already finding a college to apply for a position. It shouldn't be too hard._  
 _He came to your apartment with chocolate cake, excitedly explaining this is the best cake in the universe and you absolutely have to taste it. You smiled weakly, taking your fork and placing a tidbit in your mouth. It had no taste to your strained senses, but you agreed, nodding and smiling at him, before quickly looking away._  
 _You wondered how you're going to tell him._  
 _It was so hard. You didn't have it in your heart to chase him away. You were afraid you'll slit your own throat if you see hurt in those eyes, hurt which would most definitely be produced by you._  
 _"...until next week, I'm not actually sure, but you can trust me to run the hell away as soon as possible."_  
 _"Sorry, what? I've wandered off a bit."_  
 _"Ahh, told you it's a good cake." He grinned. "I have to go see my father, love. I'm going tonight, and I'll be back by next week. God I will miss you!"_  
 _He squeezed you in a hug, peppering the top of your head with kisses. You were blank, mellowing like an emotionless slug in his arms, feeling disgusted that those divine, loving lips are touching the rotten skin of yours._  
 _You felt as if you had a disease which made you unworthy of touching him, so you gently pushed him away._  
 _He kept talking, but you couldn't listen, only picking up that he is going now to pack in time. He pulled you one more time, and you allowed yourself to melt in a hug, allowed your mouth to be venerated by his angelic lips. You sucked what you could, almost greedily, memorising his heart beat, drawing the shape of his embrace around you in your mind to be remembered forever on your skin._  
 _He separated, pecking you enough times to make your outer shell laugh and lovingly say your goodbyes, and then exited the door of your apartment._  
 _Your laughter died out. Muscles of your face relaxed into a blank stare._  
 _"Goodbye, my only love."_  
 _You whispered into thin air.  
  
  
*  
  
_ You traced your fingertip on his arm, with a frown, as you remembered one of the most painful moments of your life.  
"Oakley?"  
"Yes, my love?"  
You closed your eyes, feeling them watery. You held him more tightly.  
"What is it?" He asked again, turning your head to look into your face. His eyebrows contorted upon seeing tears in your eyes.  
"What is it, Lydia? Did... I do something?"  
"Oh, it's nothing." You shook your head and smiled weakly. Suddenly, he inhaled and looked at you with a warning, taking your face in his hands and squeezing just a bit too tightly, his own face contorting into a slightly panicking one.  
"I know this look of yours Lydia. I know it too well."  
"I'm sorry. You're right. I... these days, I'm remembering a lot of things. And... I remembered..." You looked away, but he pulled your head back. "What I did to you. I am... beyond sorry for that, Oakley. Oh God, it was the worst thing I ever did. I... somehow thought it'll make everything better. But it was so painful, I can't even imagine what you felt like when you found the letter and I'm so sorry, Jesus Christ, I was such a coward-"  
"Shh, enough. Look at me. I'm here now. We're here. There is nothing else."  
He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, staring intently.  
"I love you so much, Oakley. My soul... I am so afraid. "  
You admitted, shivering upon saying the words. You were afraid this will somehow dissipate, and you will wake up in your bed, like you used to, in that first year upon your departure.  
  
  
*  
  
  
 _The train was probably heated enough, but you were shivering, your eyes swollen from the crying. You dug your nails into your thighs, afraid to move even a bit, afraid it'll bring another fit of tears._  
 _He must be back by now._  
 _He must be running to catch the bus, then running up your former building to burst into your apartment. He must be frowning upon finding it locked, and then using his spare key to open it._  
 _He must be entering inside, surprised and confused at the lack of your personal things, the room naked, the furniture obscenely sticking up from the lifeless rooms._  
 _He must be walking around, calling your name in his sweet voice, trying hard to figure out what the hell happened. And then he sees it. The letter on the bed._  
 _The one you wrote with your shaky hands, your handwriting an absolute mess._  
  
 _"Oakley, my love._  
 _This is probably the hardest thing I ever had to write._  
 _I don't know how to say this._  
 _I love you, but this relationship of ours has no future. It's too misplaced, it's too furtive. There are too many things wrong with it. I never thought I'll say this, but love sometimes isn't enough._  
 _We can't hide forever. And if didn't, what would we lose? Our lives, our place in the society of our own choosing._  
 _I'm using you. As much as I would like to think you want this, you're young, and I'm robbing you of your valid experiences. You may think this is what you want and need, but in five years time, you'll look back and resent me for keeping you like I did, in this place. And I want you to be happy. I love you enough to admit that. I want you to have the world, Oakley. You are the most magnificent person I ever had the pleasure and love of knowing, and you deserve more than me._  
 _I am a coward._  
 _For not rejecting everything for you when you needed me to, for seducing you, for writing this instead of saying it._  
 _But I swear to God, I love you and I want you to be happy._  
 _I'm leaving this town. Don't try to find me. Work on your own happiness._  
  
 _Once you told me I suck at writing endings. That much is clear now._  
 _I am sorry, beautiful soul. I hope you'll have it in your heart to forgive me one day._  
  
 _All of my love to you,_  
 _Lydia"_  
  
  
 _You gulped a painful lump upon realising how his face must look like after he's finished reading it. You closed your eyes, trying to even your breathing, trying to think of something else other than his tall frame sitting on your bed, rereading your letter to try to see if he mistook something, to try to see if he was dreaming, or if this was some evil prank of yours._  
 _And then you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. With a heavy heart, you pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was him. You silenced it and placed it back, leaning your head on your seat and falling asleep.  
  
  
*  
  
  
_ "That letter was... my God, I can't even try to re-live the horror I felt writing it."  
He suddenly released you, and walked to his room. You followed him, confused, when you saw him dragging a piece of paper from a pile in a drawer.  
"This letter, you mean?" He said, glancing over it, before handing it to you. You stiffened, widening your eyes upon seeing how dismayed your handwriting looked. It was yellow, fading. It had stains all over it. From alcohol. From food. There was even dried blood there.  
You bit your lips to refrain from letting a quivering sigh at what must have happened all that time – who knows what episodes he survived clutching the only sign from you in his hands.  
"It's kind of dirty, yes. Umm, I'm surprised it survived so many hesitations on whether to burn or tear it apart."  
"Why didn't you?"  
He looked contemplating, gritting his jaw and squinting his eyes.  
"Because I knew I would find you. At first, I wanted to know _Why?_ Then I wanted to beg you. Then I wanted to slap you and throw it in your face."  
You smiled, chuckling a little.  
"You should've."  
His lips twitched.  
"Yes. Jesus, I used to carry it with me everywhere, even to parties, and then reading it drunk in bathrooms. I analysed every bit of that paper. Every dot. I wondered would it contain the answer to why am I so fucked up people either leave me or reject me, my entire life."  
You gasped, clutching the paper in your fists.  
"Good God, Oakley, no-"  
"My mother... my father. Some of my friends. You. I started acting as a clown when I realised that's what attracted attention. But the insecurity was great, especially when you would warn me I'm being overly dramatic. I was wondering was that what drove you away, my childishness? Was I too puerile for you? Was it my stupid baby face?"  
"No, no, no!" You walked over to him, paper falling to the floor as you grabbed his shoulders.  
"I know that now, Lydia. I know that. But you know how minds are in times of insecurity."  
You nodded, grasping at his skin, pulling him tighter, kissing his face and his lips, a frantic, nervous ball of fear, love and desire spinning in your stomach. You wanted to crush him in your hands so that he could feel every bit of love denied to him for so long. You wanted to make up for what you did. But you were clumsy at it, pulling him down, falling on your knees, then sitting on the floor as you clutched at him, holding his head to your chest.  
"I'm sorry, Oakley."  
He was silent for awhile, before extending his arms and wrapping them around you. You carefully peer into his eyes, which were blank, pointed to an empty part of the carpet and far away.  
"I actually went into administration and begged them for help at one point, I refused to accept the fact I couldn't find you. It seemed like a nightmare. Good god, Matt must've hated how I was then."  
He chuckled sadly.  
"The amount of times I replayed exactly this in my head... finding you, knocking on your doors, you jump on me and we pick up where we left off."  
You held him more tightly.  
"And the amount of times I imagined knocking on your doors, and your husband opens – you laugh when you see me, laugh at me. I was wondering if you were sitting somewhere with your friends, telling them how you had fun with me and then left. And that's what finally stopped me from trying to find you anymore."  
You cringe.  
"My God, never. The way I talked about you, to Mary... she hated you for turning me into such a frigid, helpless, anxious mess."  
"Oh, she told me that. I was quite pleased."  
He looked at you, smiling. You chuckled, kissing his forehead.  
  
  
*  
  
  
 _You don't remember ever being so bad with your classes, unable to focus, unable to breath, connect, transfer a thought properly. You were praying you don't get fired._  
 _You had no life. After work, you dragged yourself to a small cafe to try to read, work on your lectures. And then home. Well, to your apartment._  
 _You couldn't sleep properly. And when you did, that's when the nightmares began. You would dream that you were in your bed with Oakley, waking up from a nightmare that was your current life, and when he kisses you and asks what is wrong, you chuckle and tell him you dreamt you left him and moved away. He would smile and tell you it's a silly nightmare and kiss you again. As you would roll around, laughing and teasing eachother, a blaring sound would drag you away, away, and you would wake up in this apartment, in this horrible life. Upon realisation it's your alarm waking you up, you would curl into a ball and clutch at your horrified heart, trying to gather strength to get out of bed._  
 _And then one day, you met Mary. She came with her sister who was applying for the university, stopping you in the hallway and asking for directions. Unhurried as you were, you led them to the administration office yourself, for some reason waiting with Mary as her sister busied herself with the long, tedious paperwork, talking about things. Upon finishing, she was so grateful she asked you to join her for a cup of coffee. You rejected, feeling like she would cringe at how horribly lonely you were, but she insisted, so you went._  
 _It was fun, you found yourself laughing for the first time in ages. Several times you met, and you found yourself your only friend._  
 _After awhile, she had to pry into your personal life, and if you wanted to have company, you had to open up. You cried, shivered while telling your story, and she comforted you._  
 _Then you really became friends. She introduced you to other people, and you didn't like them so much, but didn't want to tell her._  
 _And then one day, a dark, well built suited man with charming eyes came to one of her cocktail parties._  
 _You noticed him right away, of course you did, with his dark suit, his broad shoulders._  
 _As you lit your cigarette, leaning over the fence of the balcony, you heard a voice._  
 _"You know those things will kill you?"_  
 _It was him, extending his hand to you._  
 _"I'm Richard, nice to meet you."_  
 _"Lydia." You nodded curtly, smiling. "So will this, yet you say nothing about that." You waved your glass of wine at him. He chortled, and you found yourself smiling at the colour of his voice. You talked. He was a lawyer. Settled. Charming, full of manners, so grown up, so wide, quite manly. And single._

_At the end of the evening, he asked for your number, which you refused, balking away from him as if he hit you, and apologising for your reaction. He nodded and shook your hand again, thanking you for the lovely conversation._   
_Mary immediately attacked you, saying you should've went out with him, saying she knows him for long enough to tell when he really liked someone, and he really liked you. You said there must be something wrong with him then, because you looked like shit. She laughed, saying you really have to get over Oakley, and going out with Richard was the perfect way. You flinched upon hearing the "O" word, downing your glass of wine, and saying you have to go home. She sighed in frustration, kissing your cheeks and greeting you._   
_He didn't give up; Richard with the warm eyes; and you found yourself accepting a date because you just wanted to go and show him how horrible you are, hoping he'll finally leave you alone. But he didn't. It was strange, after a year of living like a castaway, how he looked at you. With adoration, showering you with constant attention and subsequently, affection._   
_You had sex. It did not rattle the skies, you did not scream or try to close his mouth with your fingers because of the words emanating from them were beyond belief (like Oakley's were), but you came, relieved._   
_He did his best to satisfy you. You used that, starting to regularly fuck, because it seemed orgasming takes anxiety away, each one bringing you farther away from your emotional hell._   
_In the end, you had to admit you're in a relationship with this man, something Mary felt personally proud of._   
_After another year, your heart opened up to a new pool of affection. You found yourself in love with him, adoring the security he presented. It was like a contract, a legal bind which says 'this is safe, this is good, he is a keeper'._   
_You never really told him about Oakley, always keeping the man "who wrecked you" nameless, storyless. But he held through it, drinking your pouring pain and calming it down. Later on, he calmed you down, straightening your posture, relieving you off your vices. You found yourself not having an opinion on the look of his house, not changing anything when you moved in._   
_Your parents loved him. And what was there not to love? The man adored you, adorning you with a lifestyle he thought was proper and beautiful. You had money. You had emotional security._   
_And then he asked you to marry him, and after replaying a carefully constructed anti-marriage script in your head, you realised that's not you anymore, that's the old Lydia. The new one really should not have anything against it. So you accepted, realising that's what you are in right now, regardless of your identifications - a stable marriage._   
_The problems appeared the fourth year upon your leaving Oakley._   
_Little things would annoy you. How he would give you sobriquets which you hated. His opinions on your line of work. How he basically found Art meaningless._   
_You didn't care so much about it, convincing yourself every couple has its differences. So you left those discussions for parties and his friends, leaving them to go hang out with more similar people._   
_You had to admit, sex had gotten pretty good. Unlike the typical situation where the passions wear out, yours had been trained to a well calculated climax – his being a bit uptight with his career made him somewhat unpredictable in bed. But never wild enough._   
_And after awhile, that also wasn't enough, so you settled for a more rested approach, the one he approved of, saying he has to work a lot._   
_You remember reading Andy Warhol's theory of how sex drains the energy for some people, while it feeds it for others. You alas found yourself belonging to the latter group, remembering how you and Oakley used to have sex several times a day, even._

_And then one day, you realised you haven't thought of him for months - when you accidentally read that name in a random newspaper article._   
_Ahh, Oakley. That boy you used to be with. It seemed like lifetimes ago, in another world. Gods, you were infatuated with him._   
_You wondered where he is right now, was he happy?_


	23. Chapter 23

You sat like that on the floor, with him in your lap, in silence, rocking back and forth.   
"I told Matt one day, about a month after you left, I was going to kill myself." He spoke after awhile.  
"You what?!"  
He just pressed his fingers into your back, to shush you.  
"I honestly thought there was something wrong with me. And I thought, this is it. This is my entire life. I went to see my father, you know that. He hit me again."  
Your eyes were tired and watery with tears, you just held him tightly against yourself, letting him speak.   
"It was nothing big, he just slapped me. I told him I decided to be a professor instead of working in an institute, and he flipped out, to which I said I'm dating a woman older than myself. Luckily, he is growing too old to do what he did to me when I was younger. And then I returned, weary and exasperated, running to ask you to hold me just for five minutes, like this. How unmanly of me."  
He chuckled.  
"Oakley..."

He didn't really hear you, his mind was elsewhere. He never told you everything, so you listened, pulling your fingers through his curls, making sure he feels you are here.  
"I lied there for two days, blank. In your apartment, I mean. Then I gave the keys to the landlord, went to my dorm room, where Matt almost killed me when I didn't contact him. He heard you weren't teaching anymore, and I didn't call him, so you can imagine his reaction. Then I started to snap, when I realised evening was approaching, and I couldn't just take the bus and go to you. That's when it _really_ settled in my head. It was painful, I refused to go anywhere for days. Then I told him all this, and said I was going to kill myself, because my entire life is loveless. Of course, poor bloke was crazy, he even cried and held me..."  
He stopped, swallowing a lump of tears.   
"I don't know what would've happened if he wasn't there."  
You thought of the implications as well, frowning and afraid to think it through.  
"Oakley, it's... Jesus Christ, I can't even imagine..."  
"Yes, it's pretty selfish, I didn't even think of your reaction."  
"It's not that, I deserve to be beaten, but a world without you..."  
"Lyd, no, I was self-absorbed." He raised his head and looked at you.   
"But it's my fault..."  
"No, it's nobody's fault. I just needed to change my perception of things. But I admit, it was horrible."   
He laid back down. You kissed his head.  
"Anyway, that passed. Months passed, it was getting easier. And then I started dating _everyone_. I told you this already. It was... not pretty. Matt called me a whore. Even the more meaningful ones... it was impossible to recreate you. And I realised that's what I was trying to do. So I gave it up, settling for lesser pleasures. I had longer relationships, but no. I gave it up completely. Deciding to be a professor – I finished school and immediately applied everywhere. After some in-depth research, I saw your name in an application professors list. My heart stopped. I stared at that paper holding my breath for so long my head started spinning wildly."  
He flinched, certain uneasiness shuddered his body. You kissed his head again. But then... it occured to you.  
"But that had to be an entire year before the actual job. You saw I worked here quite some time ago."  
"Yes, I did. And I did the research, to check if it was you – yes. Your scientific interests, chronology of your articles, your papers. Your tiny, smileless picture. I couldn't fucking breathe, I was sweating like crazy. I couldn't decide what to do, whether it was a good idea to work there. I didn't know if I wanted to see you. The job itself seemed perfect, it matched me completely, but... haha, I remember Matt telling me I was crazy, there was no way you – and he called you a 'cunt'-"  
"And he had every right. I am a fucking witch."  
"Lydia..." He looked at you, smiling. "You're not. You're too kind."  
You scoffed, rolling your teared eyes.  
"No, I'm not."  
"You always think that about yourself. Tell me the truth, how long did it take you to stop trying to find guilt in yourself when I did this.... shit with Charlotte?"  
You smiled. He knew you too well.  
"Awhile."  
"You think everything's your fault. But it's not. Stop listening to the world."  
He was right. _People_ made you break up with him and leave him. It happened too often, you succumbed to the circumstances, instead of fighting them and demanding what you desired.  
"But you're the kindest, most loving soul I know. Nobody ever made me feel what you did." He spoke quietly, with care.  
Your face cringed as another wave of tears poured out, like you were a child. He chuckled and removed your hands from your face, kissing you.   
"Sorry, sorry, I'm interrupting you. Keep talking."  
"See? Stop apologising. We're sharing, you're not interrupting me."  
He kissed your wet palms. You leaned back on the side of the bed and held his face to your breasts, caressing his hair again.   
"So, Matt said he's giving up on me if I try to contact you. He said probably didn't even remember me, being the _cunt_ you are."  
"Where is he, anyway?"  
"Dublin. He loves it there."  
You smiled.  
"It took some time to decide. I thought I had nothing to lose. Well, I kind of thought it a _deus ex machina_ type of a situation – I had to try. And so I did."  
"You never told me this... why didn't you contact me before?"  
"I didn't have the balls."  
You laughed.  
"It would be kind of desperate if I did that. And I wanted to come off as _cool_ , grown up. I wanted to surprise you. Naturally, I got the job immediately. I'm that good."  
You chuckled, slapping him gently on his cheek.  
"And as I did the paperwork, I walked around. Found your office. Whew, that brought memories back. Anyway, the first day, I arrived early."  
"Yeah, and I was there-"  
"No, I arrived before you. I was sitting in my stupid car, which I parked next to another one, the only one on the parking lot. And then a third car parked on my right. I thought I was imagining things, but you got out of it."  
"What? You were there?"  
"Yes, I froze completely upon seeing you. Froze. "  
He started laughing.  
"What? What is it?"  
"You were getting out, holding papers and a jacket, and you got stuck somehow and fell down to your knees. But I was so shocked I couldn't even laugh, I just grinned, thinking _she hasn't had her coffee yet, she's so broken in the morning_ , and you cursed cleaning dust off yourself. However, you didn't see anybody, so you bent forward and lifted your skirt up to swipe your thighs. Jesus, Lyd, the first thing I saw were your breasts and a glimpse of your knickers."  
You bit your lip, chuckling, remembering that.   
"That completely held me back. I thought I was the horniest teenager on the planet, my first reaction being turned on."  
You licked your lips, feeling tingly yourself.  
"But how could you... I probably looked like a cartoon show."  
"The hottest cartoon show ever."  
"You were in the car the whole time? I drank that coffee... forty-five minutes must have passed."  
"Yeah, I was gathering courage, but still walked on shaky legs."  
"Well fuck it, you looked amazing, I thought I'll kneel down in front of you."  
"Mmm, mmm... now that would've been something."  
You chuckled.  
"Don't moan."  
He looked at you.  
"Why not?"  
"Because we fucked then, and..."  
You bit your tongue. He finished it for you:  
"And now we're counting inches."  
"Hahaha, you're not letting that go, are you?"  
"Well it was the crown of the torture. Perfectly cruel."  
"Yeah, it's going to be hard to top that one."

He looked at you, his eyebrows up. Ahh, he thought you were over with this. You smirked, shifting to make yourself a bit more comfortable. He squinted his eyes for a second.  
"I knew you still wanted me when you first saw me. I knew it."  
"What do you mean? I tried to be official."  
"When you get aroused, you knead your fingernails into the pads of your fingers."  
You frowned, confused.  
"Just like that."   
He pointed to your left hand, and you looked at it: you were kneading the pad of your middle finger with your thumbnail. You laughed, throwing your head back.  
"You never told me that!" You hit his shoulder. "Scoundrel!"  
"I'm even sorry I told you now... ah, so many possibilities." He grinned.  
"What else do I do?"  
"I'm not telling. What about me?"  
"Uhh, You start humping me?" You said, making him laugh. "You quite obviously get nervous, with the lip bites and eyefucks. Oh God, the first time we talked..."  
"What? When?"  
  
*  
  
 _Your palms were sweating with how nervous you were. All this preparation, all the times you excelled in practice classes, and still... a week into your first job you thought you'll die with stage fright upon waiting for students in this hall that suddenly seemed gigantic. Looking out the window, you breathe in deeply as they start flocking in, filling up half the room with their piercing stares, condescending postures and smiles that just waited for you to fuck up so they can laugh.  
You didn't even see them, they were a massive blob of human faces which looked like a choir of judging demons to you.  
You talk. You're doing okay, no one laughed yet. You get a couple of raised hands. As you hand out a list of assignments, asking for them to choose one and sign their name next to it, you smile, grateful for your suddenly steady hands. You even started looking them in their eyes as you hand out last few papers. Suddenly, you spot long fingers taking the paper you held out, and mid-sentence, your eyes travel up the arm to the angelic face, with wide blue eyes and a mess of golden locks on top of his head. You stop talking. He smiles lightly, saying "thank you". You blink a couple of times to clear the block of thoughts in your head and continue with the lesson.  
Cordially you invited them to ask help with any of the problems they may encounter, in your office after class, doubting anyone will actually do it, but as you sat by your desk, re-thinking your lesson and what you needed to change, you heard a knock on the doors, which made you jump up.  
Frowning, you walked to the doors and opened them – to view the tall, lanky, curly-headed, blue-eyed boy standing in front of them, with mouth opened to speak.  
"I'm sorry, Professor, for interrupting you, but I was wondering if you maybe had a moment?"  
"Uhh, yes, uhh... yeah, sure. Come, uhh, come in."  
He followed you in, closing the doors behind himself. Suddenly, you were embarrassed at the clutter in your office, shoving the notebooks away from the table to sit down properly. He looked around himself, his lips twitching with a smile.  
"How may I help you, mister....?"  
"Brigham. Oakley Brigham, pleasure to meet you."  
He extended that long-fingered hand and as you took it, static electricity sent a little spark, making both of you flinch and chuckle.  
"Sorry!" He said, and you properly shook hands. Your heart beat increased inexplicably. He was beautiful. But Jesus, he was your student. Are you seriously getting nervous because of a beautiful student?   
He asked for literature, so you turned around, taking out papers and books, bending forward, crouching down, standing on the tips of your toes to reach everything you needed. As you turned around, he flinched and looked up your face, clearing his throat.   
Wait, was he staring at your butt? You couldn't help your smile, feeling bizarrely warm at the thought.   
You swiped the papers to the edge of your desk (good God, it was a mess), and placed his literature down, saying you needed just one more thing. Well, not really, it was just a chronology of the writer's works, but you wanted to see was he really checking you out? You quickly turned around to catch him, but he was staring at the desk, reading something.   
Oh.   
Okay, so you're imagining things.   
You sat down, explaining the assignment, when you looked at his face. He was biting his lower lip, lightly squirming in his chair. His nostrils flared every now and then. It was... distracting.   
Anyway, you greeted him and he walked out, shaking your hand a bit too strong.   
You chuckled when he was out, wondering what was that all about, returning to your desk. You were in the middle of thinking what an idiot you are for being so nervous and imagining things, when you looked at the desk. There was a paper peeking out of the mess of your writing you swiped to the side as you handed him his literature.   
It revealed the bottom half of the paper, standing to the side so both you and the person sitting opposite of you could read it. It was a bit of your erotic story. You wrote erotic stories, among other things, mostly out of fun. It said:  
"...A moan so sweet it made his blood boil, his cock twitching in his pants. Little did he know she wasn't faking it, it was the exact moan she made as her tiny, sweaty fingers fumbled with her clit last night. She thought of him. And now, in this elaborate, teasing joke, she wanted to reach her hand down and feel tight ripples of her inner walls rubbed furiously. "  
You frowned for a second, before your eyes widened and your jaw dropped down. Fuck. He... did he... read it?   
He had more than enough time as you searched for the books. It was... he was staring at the desk. Suddenly, his focused, nervous face made sense. He read it.   
Oh God, the blush that washed your face was not red, it was purple. You covered your face in your palms while your heart beat loudly. Fuck, fuck, fuck!   
You can't embarrass yourself so soon! He'll tell everybody! And you can't even say it's a book, it's your paper with your handwriting!  
You thought you'll die.   
_

_The next class was the most dreadful one. You kept stuttering, imagining students laughing at you (for a very specific reason), wondered if the occasional whisper you managed to catch with your eyes is directed at you... barely having the strength to look at him. And there he was, in the exact spot he was in last time, first row, his eyes focused on you. He was expressionless, twiddling his pen in his hands and writing down every now and then.  
He seemed calm. But you couldn't let this slide, so you invited him to your office to check. You had to know. Of course, you'd rather die than ask straightforwardly, so you sat there, asking questions about his essay. He was confused, wondering why you're grilling him so early on. Pretending to take a paper off the top of the same pile and read it, you observed his reaction. His eyes darted to the pile, then scrolled down, looking for something. He licked his lower lip and bit it.  
Bingo!  
You smiled involuntarily, immediately straightening your face, asking a few more unnecessary questions before dismissing him, noticing, as he walked away, how long his arms are, and how delicious his bottom looked in those light jeans. You bit your lip. Shit. It was not a good idea to find him hot.  
So, he read it. Of course. You would have too.  
But, he didn't tell his classmates – or they were covering it up very well, which seemed unlikely. Good, it means he was a good man, not wanting to wreck your status. Or... perhaps... was he intrigued?  
You closed your eyes at the wave of arousal shuddering through you.   
You chuckled at yourself: No, Lydia, no, this is not the dirty thoughts time. Fantasizing about your student is banned.   
Mmm... that thought only rendered it sweeter.  
  
  
*  
  
_  
"Yes, yes, that fucked me up completely. I thought I was imagining words! I was staring at you during the class, you were so nervous – it was the cutest thing ever."  
"I thought I'll die!"  
"Also, I couldn't stop looking at your tits. I wanted to bury my head here, right here..."  
He mumbled with his face between your breasts, making you chuckle and caress his curls. But then he bit one over your T-shirt and the bra, and you gasped, feeling your arousal deepen.   
"I remember thinking it's perhaps something you seized from a student. But then I saw your handwriting..."  
He grinned.  
"Yeah, you already told me you liked it."  
"Oh I liked it... fuck, if I knew how dirty your mind is..."  
He bit your breast again.  
"Oakley, stop that..."   
You squirmed. He slid his hand and cupped your sex.  
"Why? Does it make you wet?"  
You moaned as he kneaded his hand over your jeans.   
"You always did this, you imp... you would cuddle, and then coaxed me into sex..."  
He chuckled.   
"I can't help myself, Lyd. You're so warm and smell wonderfully, and it makes me want to get you naked and smother my face into your breasts, and your soft skin..."  
He pulled your shirt off, your jeans too. It was so slow and soft you wouldn't even notice it if there wasn't for his verbalization of the entire process. He unclasped your bra and caressed your belly.   
"So soft..." He licked your straining nipples, biting the underside of your breasts. "I love how you fight a moan when I do this... Oh God, Lyd, I want you to ride me so badly, I want to shove my face here as that delicious pussy swallows my cock..."  
You moaned so lewdly you almost clasped a hand over your mouth, feeling said pussy on fire at the colour of his voice and his dirty words.   
"Are you wet, baby? Let me see it." He slid off your knickers and you squeezed your thighs together. He looked at you, and you bit your lip.  
"You won't let me see it?"  
You shook your head.  
"Is this a game?"  
You nodded, still biting your lip. He moaned, smirking.  
"Oh, you dirty girl. You want me to make you spread your thighs, don't you?"  
You chuckled, feeling increasingly damp, knowing you'd be soaked in a minute. You felt like playing, slowly losing your mind to everything else but the current game.  
"I've been so bad, Oakley. I've been fantasizing about the kinkiest little thing..."  
"Really? Do you want to tell me about it?"  
He caressed the outsides of your thighs, drawing little circles with his nails.  
"About how I teased you so much you just snapped in the middle of a meeting, bent me over the desk, unzipped your trousers and just shoved into me..." You chuckled, slightly blushing. He squinted.   
"See, you keep saying that, and then you forbid doing it... you're confusing."  
"That's the point, lover. You know I would have been really mad if you did that, but the thought aroused me. I like it when you get like that."  
"You do?"  
"M-hm... it makes my pussy hungry... and slick." You said, feeling the lewd tension increasing to the maximum. He gritted his jaw, his eyes darkened a bit.   
"I want to see it."  
He purred, and yanked your thighs apart, making you gasp with the air washing over your wetness. He frowned, moaning at the sight, licking his lips.  
You reached your hand down and parted the glued slit, making thick gossamers of your arousal stretch around your fingers, which you circled around your clit and played with your labia, dipping inside yourself a little.   
"Oh you are a devious goddamn cock tease."  
You flinched, whimpering. He looked into your eyes.  
"You like that, don't you? _Cock tease_."  
You bit your lip, bucking your hips as you pushed two fingers inside yourself. He inched his face closer to your sex, but you pushed him away with your hand and continued fucking yourself. He groaned, sitting back down on the floor, his gigantic erection making a tent in his slacks.   
You chuckled.  
"Yes, I like that. You'd like to punish me, wouldn't you? Fuck me so hard I scream your name?"  
He moaned, closing his eyes.  
"I'll let you spank me."  
He opened his eyes, smirking.   
"Stand on all fours."   
You laughed.  
"No, Oakley. I want you to spank my pussy wih your cock."  
He looked at you, as the horror slowly washed over his face. He swallowed loudly.  
"You what?"

You stretched your legs even more, licking your lips slowly at him, and tapping your slick cunt several times.  
"Do it."  
He undressed and threw his slacks away, sitting on his calves in front of you and took his cock in his hands.   
"Dip your fingers inside me and rub my wetness on your cock."  
He huffed and removed your own hand, before shoving two fingers inside you. You mewled at the harshness, smiling. He rubbed your G-spot, making you buck your hips like a whore at him, before taking them out and coating his dick with the viscous arousal. He frowned, exhaling a gust of air.  
"I can't take this much more, Lyd."  
He whispered, as he pulled your thighs over his, which made your back slide off the side of the bed you were leaning on and poise yourself on your elbows. You moaned as his hot, pulsating cock laid against your greedy slit.   
"I wanted you to thrust inside me and use my dirty little pussy as your fuck toy, while you recite filthy litanies... I've been so naughty, Oakley, denying you that. I wanted to choke on your beautiful cock, feel the taste of your climax in my hot mouth... I wanted to watch it drip out of my pussy, our joint cum... so many lewd thoughts..."  
He glared at you, the peak of sexual frustration making every vein on his body prominent, the fat, juicy cock darkening with the ache he was feeling for quite awhile now.  
You were impossibly wet, it flowed out of you and streaked down your ass cheeks, smeared around your labia and the top of your thighs, glistening in the soft light of the room.  
The hard shaft hit against your folds, you whimpered. He huffed and slapped you again, making your toes curl.   
"Oh you _have_ been a bad girl, look at how horny you are." He repeatedly hit your sensitive folds, finally parting your labia to hit your clit, which made you try to close your legs, but he yanked them apart and growled at you. "Look at that... this sexy, slick little cunt is just begging to fucked hard... I bet I would slide inside you with ease, that's how greedy this tight, wet deliciousness would swallow my cock..."  
You moved to lean your back against the bed again, making him move with you, and then reached your hand down to press his cock against your slit with a firm, flat palm. He bucked his hips involuntarily, which made the slick, hot head nudge against your burning clit.   
You whined, your mind dizzy with thick lust.   
"Lydia... I can't..." He fisted his hands as the beads of sweat poured down his face. "You feel magnificent, and slippery, and I have to push inside you, I _have to_."  
You took his cock into your hand and pumped a little. He moaned, moving with you. Then you guided him to your entrance, and his eyes flew open, he stared at you.  
" _Fuck me, Oakley. Fuck me hard. "  
_ He exhaled, letting the words sit in, then pulled your hands and made you get up. You smiled as he kissed you, surprisingly chastely, as to apologise, but the moment you relaxed, he tore away and slapped your breast, before throwing you down on the bed and making you chortle. You beckoned him with your finger. He growled and slapped your tits again, twisting a nipple, making a jolt of titillating desire clench your inner walls.   
"Tell me again."  
"Ahh... fuck me hard! I need to feel your cock in me!"  
"Do you like it, my cock? How much?"  
"I love it, Oakley, it makes my mouth water, it makes my pussy hungry... mmm, I've missed it inside me. Give it to me, Oakley, fuck me good and hard, just like a dirty little cock tease that I am."  
He stroked his erection, licking his lips while he looked at you.  
You bucked your hips into the empty air, greedily. He smiled, finally, and held your thighs wide open in almost a painful position, while nudging your pussy with his cock alone, not using his hands. The pulsating head skidded over your clit and labia several times, until it finally hooked on your entrance and he thrust inside with a loud growl. You eyes flew open at the squelching feeling of the hard shaft seated among the soaked walls, right against your swollen G-spot. Your jaw dropped down, and your eyes rolled in their sockets with a woozy, prurient satisfaction.  
His head fell down, his sweaty chest heaving up and down from the feeling, the veins on his arms even more visible as he held your thighs wide apart.  
He finally gathered the strength to move, and as he slowly pulled out, the little beads of climax started bursting inside you as one painful, lascivious clamp of your insides squeezed his cock, as if it didn't want to let go. You whimpered loudly, and started coming. He shoved inside. Then out against, each time going deeper in and groaning languidly at how your cunt was working him, cramping his girth with pleasure. You closed your eyes, breathing loudly, moaning at his increasing thrusting, prolonging your pleasure and then noisily squishing inside your climax juices as you came down. The lost look on his face and the way his body greedily took your, his desired cock satisfying himself with your pussy... it made your craving appear again.  
"Come baby, come with me..." You moaned to him, and he slid his fingers to your clit, rubbing it with a familiar touch, which soon coaxed another wet orgasm out of you, this time milking his throbbing core of his climax.   
He shivered wildly as he fell onto you, his body releasing all that tension out. He was sweatier than you. _Poor baby, he suffered for so long..._ You thought with a smile as you embraced his body, soothing the twitching muscles.   
He turned you both around so you were laying on him.  
"Oakley..." You called him, kissing his lips.  
"Oakley..." Another kiss.  
He opened his eyes, hazy and beautiful. You smiled.  
"I love you." You said, your heart suddenly warm. He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly.   
"Say it again."  
"I love you, Oakley, and I never want us to be apart, ever again."  
He smiled, savouring the moment, before opening his eyes.  
"Lydia. Never again."  
A thought occurred to you, your eyes widened for a second. You got off him and off the bed, looking at the yellow, olden paper on the floor before going to the kitchen.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Wait here."  
You replied, and as you prepared to walk into the hallway, your knees quivered and you had to hold onto the door frame for a second. You heard a laugh behind yourself and smiled.   
"Shut up!"   
You yelled as you got the lighter and returned, sitting on the bed. He sat next to you as you took the paper, your old, accursed letter.  
"I want you to burn this, Oakley, once and for all."  
He smiled lightly, his eyes glowing.   
"Really? But... I don't know, it's been here so long..."  
You frowned, taking the lighter yourself.  
"Fine. Then I'll do it. I made it, I will destroy it."  
"And you're calling me dramatic..." He grinned.   
The flames came to life with a sizzle, and caught on the paper. It burned beautifully, vivid, making Oakley's face glow like the face of the angel he was.  
You caressed his cheek.  
"My beautiful boy. I will quash anyone or anything that tries to get between us again. I will quit jobs, burn houses, kill people if I have to." You grinned at your own overreacting. He smiled.  
"I love you, Lydia, with every ounce of my being."  
The paper almost burnt completely, and you got up and threw it in the ashtray, annihilating its existence.  
Turning around, you saw the face of your lover glistening with adoration. He extended his hand.  
"Come to me, my love. Let's rest."  
He said, and in that solemn moment, you felt your body and soul dissipating into thousand loving pieces which flew to him and attached themselves around his body and soul, melting two beings into a single.   
Soul mates collided, destroyed, dissolved, wrung together, intertwined into a heap, and out of the pulsating heap of emotions, grew a single being, adorned with adoration, raised with admiration and stood proudly, basking in the beauty of love ethereal and eternal.   
  
  
*  
 _  
Summer days proved to be the most tedious. The excitement of the engagement slowly washed away, everybody already saw the ring, all the other wives squeaked, all the men made monogamous sex jokes.  
You kept sunbathing by your pool, drinking wine and sighing at the boredom. Richard worked, while you were on a break. And what to do? Will this be you life? You despised the idea of the idle wife he tried to ensconce you with, thinking that's what would make you happy. He wanted to do everything for you. But there was a nagging part of you which said he is not actually listening.  
Not out of being mean, but out of the boundaries he set for himself. He filled out a carefully chosen pattern of life – with you as one of the wavy lines in there.   
Mary did her job properly, annoying with with thousand choices for the wedding. Some of it was interesting, yes, especially her girlish excitement, but it was so far away from anything you ever thought you'll be doing you kept feeling a strange sense of not belonging.  
One day, he came home exhausted. You kissed him and rubbed his shoulders while he sighed. He smelled quite good, his broad shoulders felt wonderfully under your hands, so you slid them down the front of his shirt and kissed his neck, biting it lightly, feeling playful.  
"Lydia, what are you doing?"  
"Nothing..." You said, smiling. "Helping you relax a little..." You moved to the front and straddled him on his armchair. He placed his hands on your thighs while you lifted your light summer dress up and leaned to kiss him passionately.  
"You're bored, aren't you?"  
"M-hm..."  
"Lydia... as good as that feels, I'm afraid I'm too tired."  
"You just relax, I'll do all the work. I'll use you properly." You joked, grinning at him. He smiled, sighing, although still tense under your hands – well, all parts of him except for that one part that needed to tense up by now. You looked at him.  
"Richard, what is wrong?"  
He yawned.  
"I'm tired, honey..."  
You looked at the loose fabric on his crotch.   
"You really are, huh?"  
He nodded.  
"I just need to sleep a little. This case is a nightmare."  
"Oh, okay then."  
You said, pouting a little, but understanding completely.  
"Oh Liddy, honey, I'm so sorry... Listen, I was thinking we should go on a little vacation."  
"What do you mean? What about the case?"  
"Next week I'll have a break. We can go somewhere for a week or two."  
Your eyes lit up.  
"Really? Oh Richard I would love that so much!"  
You hugged him, and he chuckled.  
"I was thinking abroad, somewhere really sunny. France, or Italy-"  
"NO!"  
You screamed, jumping off. He looked at you wide eyed.  
"What? What did I say?"  
"No, not Italy!"  
He frowned.  
"What, why?"  
You paused, looking to the floor, surprised at the strength of your reaction.  
"Uhh... I... just don't want to go there."  
He looked at you, blinking.  
"Alright then. We won't go to Italy."  
He kissed you, and loosening his tie, he walked away._

_You sat down and stared at the clear pool water. Obviously, you balked away from the idea because of... Oakley. Good God, you haven't thought of him for more than a year, and suddenly, twice in one week.  
Definitely not Italy. Especially not somewhere with pools – you thought, soaking your feet inside the water, smiling. He... never refused you like Richard did. You blushed and immediately thought what a slut you are for jumping at him so often. Oakley always played along, matching your hunger.  
You felt warm all of a sudden, biting your lower lip.   
Well, he was a boy, boys are always like that. Richard is a man, he is working, and he is tired.   
But – the other part of your mind replied – there were times when Oakley would be awake for forty-eight hours studying for exams (like everybody did at university), and you would play with him. He'd always accept your advances, your excuses how you wanted to help him relax from all the studying, and... fuck.   
You squeezed your thighs together, feeling turned on.   
Yes, he'd always want to fuck, just like you did, hungrily groping your body and moaning at the feel of your lips on his skin.   
Shit. You were getting wet now, so you took of your dress, jumped into the pool, leaning your back against the side and proceeded to pleasure yourself, fantasizing about... well, about Oakley. And his taut chest. And his long fingers playing with your sex. And his throbbing manhood, sliding inside you with ease while his sweet, hot breath moaned your name to your lips.  
  
  
You went to France, had fun – Richard was in a good mood, you made love and danced, drinking spirits and eating delicious food. You got your confidence in him back.  
He always managed to make you feel better, replacing whatever bad or distracting thoughts with those of ease. And you should marry someone who can do that. All you had to do was try to soothe down the wilder parts of your personality. Yes.  
The academic year was one week ahead, so you gathered paperwork, finished the tedious little job and started to get ready. Finally, your boredom will go away. You couldn't wait to be back in the classroom.  
However, you got used to sleeping late, so, when the long-awaited first day came, you almost overslept the first meeting, which you wanted to show up early for, and jumped out of the bed, grabbing clothes and running to your car with half closed eyes, deciding to drink coffee in the teacher's lounge instead of at home.   
The parking lot was almost empty, but it was a better idea to park next to the only two cars there, to avoid students blocking your exit if you took any risks. You took your papers and your jacket, and as you tried to exit, all sleepy as you were, you stumbled on the bottom of the car door frame and, having both your hands occupied, fell out, landing on your knees painfully.  
"Fuckdamnit!" You yelled and quickly rose, looking around yourself, afraid somebody saw how clumsy you are. _ _ Swiping dust of your skin and dress, you locked your car and hurried up the building, to down the awakening brown fluid before everybody arrived. The first sip felt like paradise, and you took a seat, seeing lists of professors in the middle of the desk.  
You took one.  
Carelessly glancing over it, your eyes stop at a single name: Brigham, O _ _.  _ _  
You smile to yourself as you sip on your coffee, your mind again wandering back, way back to your little affair with one of your students. Four months of lewd behaviour in your office did you in: you had to quit, burdened with guilt. You moved to a new town, got a new position easily, due to the recommendations of your baffled colleagues. You sigh, remembering how the boy was eager, hungry of you.  _ _ Ah, well,  _ _ you say to yourself,  _ _ lots of similar names nowadays,  _ _ and you continue arranging your papers.  
You keep reading, tapping your pen on your lips, when suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. You frown, wondering why is the person knocking and you get up, tapping your heels annoyingly and open the doors – to view the most surprising scene: _

_in front of you stood a tall, elegant man in suit, bearing the face of your very own former student, only older, with a trimmed beard, his wild youthful blonde locks darker and contained in a flawless haircut. Your jaw fell open as you caught his eyes – unchanged, glowing with that same blue glow you enjoyed so dearly._

_His eyebrows shot up at the sight of you, before his face softened into a huge, beautiful grin you knew so well.  
"O-Oakley?" You stuttered._

_ "Yes." He said. _


End file.
